


Imperfect Impostors

by bottombeeb



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Brendon Urie, Breathplay, Choking, Dirty Talk, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Ice Skating, M/M, Meet the Family, Mormonism, Religion Kink, Rough Sex, Seriously just a shit ton of Mormon Brendon kink, Snowball Fight, Tattoos, Thanksgiving, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 09:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16115816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottombeeb/pseuds/bottombeeb
Summary: Patrick Stump's heading back home from college during Thanksgiving break to spend time with his family. But when they won't shut up about setting him up with a girl... well, he decides to lie a little and tell them about his boyfriend, Brendon Urie. The only problem? Brendon's not his boyfriend. But after an SOS call to the tattooed weed-smoking fuckboy, Brendon decides to save the day by posing as Patrick's conservative and religious boyfriend. But how much is pretend and how much is real?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandon/gifts).



> This is the longest fic I've ever written! And it's all dedicated to @pandon and her long long list of Brendon-related kinks.

Patrick has a love-hate relationship with Thanksgiving. He loves it because it’s an entire holiday dedicated to food. He gets almost a full week off from school to hang with family and stuff his face full for a whole weekend. Plus, his family always hosts and his mom is an amazing cook, in the kitchen for hours to hand-make everything she puts on the table. It makes up for all of the store-bought shit their relatives bring. Hosting also means they always send him back to school with enough leftovers to feed a college kid for a week. Although, between him and Pete it normally only lasts a few days.

He hates it because it means his immediate and extended family have to pry into his life. He’s not a big fan of talking about himself in general, so when everyone has to ask about classes, and his grades, and his social life, and if he’s seeing anyone, it gets irritating. He doesn’t so much mind the questioning about school, but any questions involving dating make him want to stuff his mouth with turkey just so he doesn’t have to answer.

His family knows he’s gay; he came out to them halfway through freshman year after finally managing to get his head straight (or well, not straight). So, it’s not that they don’t _know_ it’s just that a lot of them don’t want to accept it. He’s a junior now, and still every time he comes home, his dad has to ask about girls at school, and his mom has to tell him about her friend from church’s daughter who’s about his age and, oh she’s a sweetheart, you would love her. His extended family is mixed with some of them being totally chill with it, but most of them acting more like his parents. He’s “the gay cousin”, and he’s aware of how people think of him.

He wonders if they would have an easier time accepting everything if he had ever actually brought a guy home. He’s never dated anyone seriously enough to justify bringing them home. In high school, everything was just curiosity and sneaking around, hiding from his parents and not even sure about his sexuality yet. College has been full of having fun, casual dating, and hooking up. The boyfriends he’s had haven’t been anyone to write home about, and haven’t lasted all that long. He’s not really into relationships right now anyway, and there’s no one worth bringing up, let alone bringing _home._

This year is no different. It’s the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving at the Stump household. Monday was the last day of classes for Patrick, so he waved goodbye to his friends and jumped on a train out of the city and into the suburbs of Chicago. A little over 24 hours later and he already misses the city. Still, it’s nice to be home. It’s just him, his parents, and his siblings tonight, the rest of their family won’t be coming until Thursday. Megan’s in her senior year of high school, and Kevin graduated college last year, so Patrick’s the only one they haven’t seen in awhile. Meaning he’s the main topic of conversation tonight. He managed to avoid really talking too in depth about himself all day, but now that they’re gathered around the dinner table, he’s thrown to the sharks.

He’s already talked about his classes and how he’s been holding up this semester, all easy stuff. He talked to Kevin about him and Pete’s new band. Megan asked about his new apartment. His parents added a few questions and comments here and there, about friends and life, but Patrick knows they’ve been waiting to ask about his dating life.

“So Patrick,” his dad starts, tone giving him away, and Trick has to fight back the groan that rises in him before he even hears the question, “have you met any nice girls?”

Patrick gives a one-armed shrug, focusing hard on trying to twirl his spaghetti just right around his fork. His parents are waiting for an answer, but his siblings are quiet and he knows they’re just waiting for this conversation topic to pass. They might ask him again later out of earshot of the rents.

“Not girls, no,” he answers, managing to keep the irritation out of his voice, but it just leaves him sounding tired and uninterested.

He know’s that they’ll only hear the “no”. Out of his peripheral he sees his mom put down her silverware and lean a bit over the table.

“Well I was talking to Mrs. Cooper after Sunday worship last weekend, and she was saying that her daughter Hilary…” and off she goes, talking about what a doll the girl is, and how she goes to school in the city too, and how she’s single, and a million other things Patrick doesn’t care about.

He can’t fight the groan this time, and he hears his mom stop talking. He’s not here to fight with them, but nothing shuts them up other than him storming off or him agreeing to take the girl out to lunch.

“Mom. I can’t. I’m not…” he starts, trying to decide if he wants to have this conversation or not right now.

The “I’m not into girls” conversation has been had too many times between them, and he really doesn’t have the energy to delve into it yet again. Not for the first time, Patrick finds himself wondering if they would shut up if he has brought a guy up. Maybe that would prove to them that he’s serious about this. It’s not just curiosity and having fun, he’s genuinely into guys. He’s opening his mouth as soon as the idea forms, not giving himself enough time to actually fully think it through.

“I have a boyfriend,” he says simply, staring at his food and questioning his decision as soon as the words leave his lips. But hey, at least it shuts his mom up for another minute.

No response. He glances up from his plate after another moment of no one saying anything, and all four of them are looking at him. His siblings look mostly surprised, his mom stunned, and his dad strangely passive. Doubt starts to surface however, and Patrick takes this moment to remember that he’s not the best liar.

“Well… That’s great honey. What’s his name?” his mom asks, with a tight-lipped smile.

All he can think to say is “um”.

“We haven’t heard you talk about anyone new,” his dad jumps in, voice pressing.

Oh right. Details. His mind races into action. They already don’t believe him, and getting caught is not something he wants to face right now. He’s not big on sharing about his life, but it does seem kinda weird that he woulda kept this so quiet. It’s not like he’s been trying to hide being gay or anything. Just pick a name, Patrick. Someone he knows then? Someone he’s talked about? They’ve known Joe since high school and he gives off sub-zero gay vibes. It would only take a quick facebook search to find a picture of Andy and that would lead to a whole other kind of talk. Pete is obviously out, although he somehow thinks that Pete would be the least-surprising answer. He’s got more than a handful of female friends so they’re all out the window. Has he talked about any of the guys he’s been hanging out with recently? When a name pops into his head, he nearly laughs because that’s perfect.

“Um, actually it’s Brendon. I was talking about him earlier, remember?” he asks, proud of himself for having something to back this up.

He and Brendon met a few months ago when the Vegas boy had started at DePaul and took an interest in the local hardcore scene. He mostly hung with Zack and Sarah’s crowd, but him and Pete still saw him around a lot. They hadn’t really known each other very long when they ended up hooking up at one of Chris’s parties early in the semester. From there, it didn’t exactly progress into cutes dates and boyfriends. Sure they go out, get lunch, see shows, hang out, but it very rarely doesn’t end with sex. And a lot of it.

Even if they were dating, Brendon’s not exactly “take him home to meet your parents” material. The best way their friends describe him is that he’s a fuckboy. He spends most of his time smoking weed, drinking beer, listening to music, having sex, or talking about how much he loves dick and pussy. He’s tattooed and loud, he curses all the time, and is probably as opposite of religious as you can get. One of his favorite shirts actually just says “sinner” on it. Definitely not the type to bring home to his conservative Christian family.

“Well, can we see a picture of him? Can we put a face to your stories?” His mom asks, and he has a mini panic attack when he thinks about his friend’s instagram feed.

“Uh, yes, yeah, lemme um, lemme find one,” he says lamely, fumbling his phone out of his pocket.

This shouldn’t be that difficult, but again. Terrible liar. He pulls up instagram and goes to Brendon’s account. Oh god, does the boy have a single decent photo on his account? It takes a bit of scrolling but he finally finds a presentable one. It’s a picture of him and Sarah on the lawn in their quad. There’s nothing illegal or obscene in view and he’s got a sweater hiding his tattoos. Patrick looks at it for a minute and can’t help thinking what an attractive pair they are. They’re both so good looking in real life, and the camera loves them. He knows his parents were probably hoping for a photo of them together, but he’s not photogenic and doesn’t exactly love having his photo taken.

He pulls the photo up on his camera roll, and then hands his phone over to his mom.

“We’ve been dating for like two months,” he lies, thinking that this might be getting easier.

He sees his mom’s eyebrows raise and he wishes she didn’t seem so surprised that he landed such an attractive guy. When she looks up at him, she’s smiling and Patrick’s not expecting her to look happy. She hands the phone over to her husband to see, ignoring the way Megan is trying to look over her shoulder at the photo.

“Well he looks very nice, Patrick. Are you going to invite him over on Thursday?” She asks, smile and voice both sweet. He can’t tell if it’s genuine or fake.

Patrick’s about to give some excuse about Brendon being with his own family this weekend, but then his dad is calling his bluff before he even has a chance to speak.

“You did say that him and Andy were the only two of your friends who were staying at school for the holiday, didn’t you?”

Patrick’s stomach twists as he remembers that casual, off-hand comment he had made earlier. Andy had a thing with his vegan friends since they can’t have traditional Thanksgiving food, and Brendon was hanging back because he said his family wasn’t doing anything special this year. He takes his phone back from his dad in a daze.

“Um. Yeah he’s still in Chicago. I just wasn’t sure if uh, if it was okay to invite him,” he responds, trying to relax and make all of this lying a bit more believable.

“Oh of course it is honey! Why don’t you give him a call tonight and invite him over tomorrow? We would love to meet him,” his mom says, seeming to buy his story.

“Yeah I, uh, I’ll call him,” Patrick responds with a forced smile.

He feels so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sup hottie.”

Patrick isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Brendon answers his phone after the second ring. A large part of him wanted to not call, just go downstairs and tell his family that Brendon actually spur of the moment decided to go visit family. Or just say that he’s dead. But for some reason, he’s going through with this. He’s gonna invite Brendon over for the holiday, ask him to act polite, introduce him to his family, go back to school, and then make up some reason to tell his parents that they broke up. 

“Hey Brendon,” he replies, sitting on his childhood bed and rubbing his temple, “are you still gonna be on campus this week?”

“Mm hmm, why?” his friend responds, and he can hear the smile on the boys face, “are you and your hot ass coming back early? Should I clear my schedule?”

This was a bad idea. Even if Brendon does agree to do him a solid and show up to shut his family up, there’s no way he’ll be able to act good enough for his parents to approve. But still, he doesn’t wanna choke on this lie.

“Actually I need a pretty big favor. I’d owe you one, big time,” he says, biting his lip and bouncing his leg the way Brendon always does.

“Sure, what’s up dude?” Brendon responds, and Patrick can see the shrug he gives.

“So uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand over his face, feeling so fucked when he mumbles, “I kinda told my parents that you’re my boyfriend.”

The laugh on the other end of the line makes Patrick flinch and have to move his phone far from his ear. He sighs and grits his teeth.

“You did WHAT dude?” his friend laughs, sounding oh so amused at Patrick’s suffering.

“They were getting on my back about girls again, and I thought that if I said I had a boyfriend they’d stop. They asked what his name was and I panicked and said it was you,” he responds, sounding so defeated, knowing this is a lost cause.

“Should I be flattered?” Brendon asks with a chuckle still in his voice, but then he’s a bit more level when he continues, “so what, you need me to pop in on Thursday, you introduce me to your ‘rents, we act like a happy couple, and then I split?”

Patrick wishes it were simple. A quick introduction and a few hours at dinner would be easy, but no, his parents wanted Brendon tomorrow. 

“Um,” he starts, unsure and tired, “actually they were hoping to have you for the weekend. They told me to invite you down tomorrow and then we can head back together after the holiday.”

He hears the line quiet down on Brendon's end. He knows it’s likely just the younger boy thinking it over, but it sounds tense and puts Patrick on edge.

“Yeah why not, I’ll help you out,” Brendon finally responds with a smile in his voice, and Patrick’s sigh of relief is loud and obvious, “you want me tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, yes, tomorrow, thank you dude,” Patrick responds, heart racing, “I seriously owe you, Brendon.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that. I gotta think of the dirtiest favor I can ask for as repayment,” Brendon laughs, and Patrick knows he’s not just joking.

“Let’s get through this week first,” Patrick responds, trying not to be interested in what his friend might come up with. Somehow when it comes to sex, they line up so perfectly with what they like.

“Oh and, Brendon?” he asks, waiting for the “hm?” his friend responds with.

Patrick chews his lip, trying to think of how to phrase his next request. What he needs is for Brendon to not act like, well,  _ Brendon _ . What he really needs is someone who isn’t as controversial as his friend is. Someone who doesn’t identify as a “sinner”.

“My parents are kind of, uh, conservative and pretty religious. So if you could try to act more…” he trails off, trying to find a word.

“Like a good boy?” Brendon fills in, but there’s something dirty and teasing in that response that makes Patrick groan in irritation.

The younger boy laughs over the line, but he really did hit the nail on the head. Yeah, Patrick would love him to act like a good proper boy that his parents will like. All he really needs is someone who isn’t gonna offend the holy hell out of his family.

“Don’t worry, Stump. I got you covered. Christian, right?” Brendon asks, pausing until Patrick responds affirmatively, “yeah, I can do that. So how am I getting to you?”

“Um, so you can take the Metra here whenever tomorrow. Just take the Milwaukee North to Glenview and I can come pick you up,” Patrick explains, feeling for the first time that this might actually work, “I’ll reimburse your tickets.”

“Glenview. Got it,” the boy mumbles, making noise on the other end, seemingly writing something down, “oh one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Patrick responds, still nervous but definitely more calm than before.

“Should I pick up condoms? Or do you have enough there to last us?”

Patrick doesn’t even pause before he hangs up on him.


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick was relieved when Brendon texted him last night to say he was taking the train that’ll get him to Glenview a bit past noon. Even though Brendon’s doing him a favor here, he would’ve still been miffed if his friend made him wake up at some ungodly hour (like 9am) to come get him. 

He’s been standing in the lobby of the station for a couple minutes, watching people shuffle by and waiting for Brendons train to come in. There's a small rush of people and when Patrick checks the time, he guesses it’s Brendon’s group unloading. He scans the crowd for his friend but comes up empty. Frowning, he takes out his phone and pulls up his messages. Nothing from Brendon, so he would assume everything was fine. He starts to tap out a quick message, but then he’s hearing a, “hey babe” from right in front of him, startling him slightly. 

Patrick’s surprised as he looks up, because he must have missed his friend walking with the crowd, but then he gets a look at him and. Oh. That's why he missed him. 

Brendon looks different than Patrick ever remembers seeing him. He's wearing black dress pants with complementing oxfords, and a button down with the sleeves rolled, dressed so nicely. His hair is neat and in place, and he's got his glasses on. There's something else off about him that Patrick can't quite put his finger on, something that makes him a little less harsh. He’s aware of how obvious the once-over he’s giving the taller boy is, but he thinks he's justified. Overall, Brendon’s a lot more conservative and proper than Patrick had been expecting. Maybe this  _ will _ work. 

The younger boy gives a warm smile, and then he's leaning in to press a quick kiss to Patrick's lips. It's soft and the most chaste kiss Trick thinks he's ever gotten from his friend. Might as well start the act now. Right when he starts to kiss back, those lips are gone and he finds himself missing them. Brendons giving him this half-mouth smile and Patrick's struck by how handsome he looks. He’s used to that signature “fuckboy” look, and he seems out of place dressed up like this, but Patrick finds himself thinking that Brendon’s got the attractiveness that can probably pull off anything. 

“You look…” so good, really hot, like I need to get you alone, “nice.”

“I  _ do _ clean up nice, don't I?” Brendon asks, that half smile spreading into a grin as he leans back and holds his arms out. 

That's when it hits Patrick what’s off about him, what makes him look an extra level of a good kid. His arms are bare. No ink, no color, just skin. There isn't a trace of a tattoo on his forearms and it looks so foreign. His eyes go a bit wide as he stares for a minute. 

“Your tattoos, what?” he asks, unable to find something more intelligent to say. 

“Hm? Oh yeah I covered them up. Figured they made me look less like the good boy you want me to be,” and there's that teasing playful voice again, but this time it makes Patrick feel a little warm when Brendon adds a wink. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he mumbles, eyes still on that blank stretch of skin. 

“So…” Brendon starts, rocking on his heels with one hand in his pocket, the other one reaching for his suitcase, “we doing this or what?”

Patrick sighs because for some reason, they are.

\---

They get Brendon’s luggage packed in the trunk of Patrick's mom’s car, and climb into the front. Trick doesn't notice how chilly the air is until he sees Brendon puffing breath into his hands and rubbing them together. He grew up here in the suburbs and has lived in Illinois his whole life, so he's used to the cold, but Brendon’s thin and he's spent his life in Vegas. Trick doesn't know how he's gonna last his first winter here. 

He turns the heat up and hits the button for the seat warmer on Brendon side, and then they’re pulling out and onto the street. They chit chat about what's been going on while the radio plays in the background. Apparently everything's been pretty slow on campus with everyone leaving for break, and Patrick doesn't have much to report on about the Stump household, but somehow they can always carry a conversation together. A song they both like comes on the radio and Trick turns it up, their talking trailing off easily. 

When Patrick glances over at his friend, the younger boy is singing along softly and looking out the window, watching the streets go by. He wonders how long it'll take to stop thinking that Brendon looks strange without his tattoos and ripped jeans, especially if he dresses this way all weekend. He doesn't know if he’ll ever get used to it. It's different and actually really hot. Yeah Brendon’s good looking by pretty much anyone's standards, but there's something about the way he looks right now that makes Patrick feel a little warmer the longer he looks at him. He tries to keep his eyes on the road, not stare too much at his friend in the passenger seat. 

Patrick wonders how many people are gonna be surprised to see someone like Brendon on his arm. He’s short, fat, and insecure. Not exactly the type you'd expect to be bringing someone like Brendon home. He's actually surprised that the two of them even have this thing going. It's pretty obvious that Brendon’s out of his league, but the younger boy is still into him. Their first hookup can likely be written off by the buzz of alcohol and the energy of an after-show party. From there, what they had just continued. Trick considers himself to be pretty good in bed, so he’s always figured that’s what kept them going. Patrick thinks Brendon’s hot, Brendon thinks Patrick’s a good lay. It works. 

The car ride and the tune of music is relaxing, making Patrick feel significantly more calm. Brendon looks presentable, and he seems willing to make an effort, something that Patrick really appreciates. They can definitely do this. They can definitely do this. He tells himself that like a mantra in his head, and it helps him stay level up until they're pulling into the driveway and his heart rate spikes. Maybe they can't do this. He parks the car and kills the engine, but doesn't move to take his seatbelt off, just grips the wheel with both hands and then leans forward to press his forehead against it and groan. 

“You okay there?” Brendon asks, a chuckle in his voice.

“Why do I feel like this is gonna crash and burn in my face?” he grumbles, shaking his head against the wheel.

“Because you're being pessimistic and don't have enough faith in me,” Brendon responds in a voice that's a bit too optimistic for Patrick's liking, “now pop the trunk for me, will ya? I got parents to impress.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and then sits up straight again. Brendon unbuckles his seatbelt and then hops out, humming a tune to himself as he disappears around the edge of the car. Another deep breath, and then Trick is swallowing around the tightness in his throat and following suit.


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick only fumbles once with getting his keys in the lock of the front door. He wishes he could blame it on the cold, as his friend bounces on his toes to stay warm and their breath floats from their lips in little clouds. He turns the lock and they walk back into warmth, the smell of cinnamon, apples, and pumpkin greeting them.

“I'm back,” he calls into the house, kicking off his shoes and telling Brendon he can leave his by the door. 

His mom rounds the corner towards them, and he feels hands on his shoulder. He’s surprised for a moment, but it's just Brendon helping him take his jacket off, already the polite boyfriend. He lets his friend take it from him and hang it on a hook by the door before Brendon’s taking his own off as Patrick’s mom comes to greet them. 

“Well you boys took no time at all getting back,” she says simply before turning to face Brendon with a warm smile, but Trick can see just how analyzing she's being right now, “and you must be Brendon. I'm so glad you could make it, dear. Patrick's been telling us about you.”

“It's nice to finally meet you Mrs Stump,” Brendon says with a smile, reaching out for a handshake, “you have a lovely home.”

“Oh thank you, love,” she responds, shaking Brendon’s hand lightly, “and you can call me Pat. Mrs Stump makes me sound so old.” 

Brendon gives a good-natured laugh and Patrick relaxes considerably. His friend, his  _ boyfriend, _ is acting charming and polite, already on his way to his mom’s good side. Brendon makes a comment about some of the decorations and after an exchanged sentence or two, Patrick’s mom is laughing at something Brendon said. It's warm and reassuring, and when Brendon glances over and gives Patrick a wink, the older boy lets out a quiet huff of relief. 

Brendon keeps up his best behavior with the rest of the family. Kevin and Megan are friendly enough, and they seem to be cool with Brendon upon first introduction. Patrick's dad gives him a firm handshake and a short greeting, gaze calculating and as analyzing as his mom’s, only not hidden behind smiles and laughter. Trick already knows they're both gonna be studying the two of them all day, but at least first impressions have gone well.

There’s something about this good, proper, polite side of Brendon that makes Patrick pay closer attention to him. With his nice dress pants and his ironed out shirt, Patrick can’t stop his mind from wandering. He can’t stop himself from thinking about messing up the respectable boy in front of him. Pulling him off to the side and dirtying up. He’s lost thinking about disheveling that combed hair and wrinkling that pressed shirt when his mom calls for his attention.

“Huh?” is all he can say when he catches her voice calling to him.

“Why don’t you help Brendon bring his suitcase up to the guest room, sweetie,” his mom says, seemingly unaware of her son’s wandering mind. 

“Oh, uh yeah,” he responds, clearing his voice before he’s shooting a quick smile at Brendon and grabbing his friend’s suitcase, “it’s just upstairs.”

“Lead the way, babe,” Brendon responds with a smile, before they’re heading towards the staircase.

Patrick makes his way to the guest room, down the opposite end of the hall from his room, and stops when he gets to the door, realizing that his friend isn’t behind him. He looks back the way he came, and the boy is standing and looking at something on the wall, a little smile to himself. Trick wanders over to his friend, finding a family picture hung on the wall in front of them. It’s just a normal photo, the 5 of them standing in their backyard at some cookout what looks like a few years back, all smiling. The memory comes back and he remembers the photo being taken. They used to do stuff like that all the time. 

“You guys are cute,” Brendon comments, before turning to Patrick with that smile still on his face, “one big happy family, huh?”

“Yeah, well I think that was before dad caught the grill on fire and the neighbor’s dog knocked over our drink table,” Patrick responds, a slight smile on his lips, because as hectic and frustrating as that day was, it’s still a fond memory to look back on.

Brendon laughs at that, bright and amused before he’s turning back towards the hallway and they head back to the guest room. The room is neat and made up, ready for his aunt and uncle’s arrival on Thursday. They’ll have to move Brendon when the time comes, but for tonight he can stay here. He explains that to his friend, and the boy makes some acknowledging noises and head nods, but Patrick’s not so sure he’s listening as he pulls his suitcase further into the room and looks around. He’s got his hands in his pockets and this content look on his face. It’s cold and cloudy out but the natural light that makes it through the windows complements him.  Patrick is struck by how god damn good he looks. 

He toes the bedroom door shut and closes the distance between them, hands finding Brendon’s hips and backing them up until the younger boy is pressed against the nearest wall. Brendon hits the wall with a soft “oof”, and his hands move to Patrick’s shoulders, looking down at him with interested and hopeful eyes. He looks so good, he looks so hot, and Patrick feels like maybe  _ he’s  _ gonna be the one getting them in trouble this week. Fuck. He doesn’t say anything, just leans in and up to press their lips together. It’s not soft or chaste, it’s rough and insistent, and Brendon gives back as good as he gets, eager as always in his kisses. Patrick wants nothing more than to step closer and press their bodies together, chase that heat that’s building between them. Their kisses are always electric and every second of it makes him want more more more. His hands are a bit too tight on Brendon’s hips but that’s all he can do to ground himself and stop from going too far. You can’t defile him, Patrick. Not when you have to go downstairs and face your family in a couple minutes.

When he finally pulls away, Brendon chases his lips with a little whine, and god he wants to dive right back in again. When they make eye contact, they both look flustered and wanting for more. They’re both a bit breathless, and when Patrick licks his lips without realizing, Brendon’s gaze is dropping to stare at them, his own parted slightly. Oh god, do they really have to stop? Patrick’s about to force himself to let go and step back, but then Brendon’s moving in again, one hand on the shorter boy’s cheek, tipping his face up and leaning close. Patrick’s expecting a kiss, lips prickling in anticipation, but the other boy stops a hair short, both of them sharing shaky breaths.

“You’re not making it easy to be good, you know,” Brendon breathes out, sounding like he wants to be thrown on the bed as much as Patrick wants him on his back underneath him.

Patrick’s fingers itch to pull Brendon closer, to say fuck it all and take what they both want, but he stays still, sheer force of will keeping him from giving in. Then, Brendon’s pressing their lips together again and giving a small moan that Patrick doesn’t think he even noticed. He kisses back without hesitation, and Brendon follows Patrick’s lead. They keep it slower than before, but it’s still deep and fueled by so much heat. The only reason Patrick pulls back is because he knows he can’t go downstairs with a hard on. He lets go of Brendon’s hips and takes a deliberate step back. He needs distance between them right now. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and doesn’t look at Brendon, knowing the younger boy must look good enough to eat right now.

“We should,” he starts, clearing his throat when he hears how rough his voice sounds, “we should head back downstairs. They’ll start to wonder where we are.”

He sees Brendon shrug out of his peripheral, and then move past him, pulling his suitcase further into the room with him.

“I’ll just tell them I needed a couple minutes to get settled,” he says, and when Patrick turns to look at him, he’s got his suitcase hauled onto the bed.

Trick has to look away again because looking at Brendon from behind is just as taunting as looking at him from the front. 

“Hey catch,” Brendon calls to him.

The younger boy gives Patrick just enough heads up that he should be able to catch the box tossed at him easily. Instead, he still fumbles and drops it. He pointedly ignores the smile that he can  _ feel  _ from his friend when he bends over to pick it up. It takes him a minute to register what it is, and right when he does, Brendon’s cutting into his thoughts.

“You never told me if you had enough!” he laughs, grin bright and playful.

Patrick just throws the box of condoms hard back at his friend, and turns towards the door with a huff, ignoring the part of him that’s glad Brendon came prepared.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Lunch and afternoon with the family goes well, eating in the lounge and just watching tv and chatting, but Patrick soon realizes that he’s been overlooking a large chunk of this ruse: that they’re supposed to be  _ boyfriends _ . He's been so focused on Brendon being a good kid and impressing his family that he hasn’t really been thinking about acting like a happy couple. Brendon plays the role, though, and he plays it well, making sure they come across as something they're not. Patrick acts like normal, but Brendon is always there, a little too close to him, smiling and laughing at what he says, leaning in when he talks, giving small touches, calling Trick pet names, acting like a sweet and adoring boyfriend. He almost has Patrick fooled.

During a rather long lapse of not directly interacting with his so-called boyfriend sitting at his side on the couch, he feels a bump against his shoulder. When he looks up, Brendon has a concerned look on his face.

"You okay, babe?" he asks, like he actually does want to know.

"Yeah," he nods in return, before giving a fuller answer, "just nervous about you meeting everyone tomorrow."

It's not a lie, he's nervous as shit. Things are going well but all it'll take is a slip up or two tomorrow to raise red flags and make his family wake up. Brendon either sees that, or he's just following his script, because he reaches out for Patrick’s hand. It's just a small point of contact but it makes Tricks skin tingle, makes him want to lean into the older boy and chase this warm feeling he has. Brendon squeezes his hand lightly and gives a reassuring smile, and Patrick is very aware of his parents attention on the two of them.

"It'll go great, Trick. I promise I'll be on my best behavior," Brendon answers, and Patrick hopes he's the only one to catch the younger boy's little wink.

Things continue to go smoothly until dinner. Brendon offers to help Patrick's mom in the kitchen, which leaves the older boy to himself so that he can start worrying about the interrogation which is undoubtedly coming. There hasn't really been a chance for his parents to grill his boyfriend yet today, and now that they're all going to be sitting down to a family dinner, the college boys are trapped.

He's fiddling with his hat, staring through the tv rather than watching it, until a hand on his shoulder pulls him from his worry. There's been so much physical contact between the two boys that Patrick's starting to adjust to it.

"Help me set the table?" Brendon asks with a smile, and his hand doesn't leave Patrick's shoulder, until he's out of reach.

They get the room ready for dinner, in a comfortable silence save for Brendon's humming. Patrick doesn't recognize the tune, but Brendon's got so much music inside of him that it isn't surprising. The nerves in the older boy's stomach are making him jittery. This whole day has been a rollercoaster of freaking out and then relaxing and then worrying and then calming. He knocks over a glass and drops a hand of silverware in one go, and lets out a sigh of frustration that get him a look from his friend.

Brendon walks around the table to him, not stopping even when he gets a bit too close. The hand that finds it's way to Patrick's cheek is warm and comforting.

"Hey," Brendon whispers, a smile on his lips, "everything's going to be okay, babe. We can do this."

The words take a bit of tension out of Patrick's shoulders because hearing it from someone else is a lot more reassuring than telling it to himself in his head. Then, Brendon's leaning down and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. It's gentle and Patrick wastes no time kissing back, hand coming up to hold the front of the taller boy's shirt lightly. When his friend finally pulls back, Patrick keeps his eyes closed for another moment before opening them again. Brendon rubs his thumb over Patrick's cheek, and then he's stepping away, breaking the contact and the comfort between them.

"Now let's get this finished up so we can eat!" Brendon says with a smile, fixing Patrick's little mess and getting back to work.

Patrick glances through the doorway into the kitchen, wondering if his mom caught them. He figures she must've for Brendon to have a reason to act that caring. His tongue darts out and licks over his lips, the tingle of Brendon's touch still lingering. His friend picks up his humming again, and Patrick only hesitates a moment more before helping finish up all the prep for the dinner that maybe won't feel quite as much like hell as he'd been dreading.

\--

Patrick loves his mom's cooking. It's the number one thing he looks forward to when he comes home. He took home-cooked meals for granted in high school, and once he left for college, always binging on pizza and Chinese food, he started to miss it terribly. Normally, he clears his plate and goes back for seconds at dinner, forcing himself not to just shove spaghetti and chicken and vegetables in his face. Tonight, however, he's done little more than push his food back and forth on his plate.

His mom acts like she's just having some friendly conversation, but every question is meant to pry. His dad is more forthright about what he asks, getting to the point. They ask Brendon about school, his major, his social life, and it echoes the first night Patrick got back. But then they start to delve a little deeper, asking his age, where he's from, his sexuality. That last one irks Patrick a bit too much, but before he can speak up about it, Brendon's easily answering their question. Typically his answer is something along the lines of "I love dick, pussy, and everything in between", whatever that means. Tonight his answer is simply, "I like people. Gender doesn't really matter all that much to me. We're really all the same when you get down to it, and I'm attracted to the person rather than to how people present themselves." It's well put together and thoughtful, and it makes Brendon seem a little different in Patrick's eyes. Sure it may be bullshit, but something about how he speaks makes it sound honest. His parents definitely buy it, even if they are more incredulous about bisexuality than they are about homosexuality. Patrick takes a bite out of his chicken, feeling like he can stomach it now.

"So Brendon, what are your thoughts on religion?"

Patrick freezes in his seat, eyes jumping to his mom as she waits for the answer to the number one question Trick has been dreading tonight. Sure Brendon can lie, but his mom knows enough about Christianity that Patrick knows she can likely sniff out a fake. As long as Brendon doesn't go full out altar boy, maybe says that he grew up with a fairly religious family and still believes in God, he should be safe. He throws a look to his friend, hoping to silently signal, "go vague, go subtle. Don't make this a big deal, just get to the next topic,” but Brendon isn't looking at him, the look on his face making Patrick fear that he's gonna blow this whole operation right here and now. His eyes are lit up, the way they are when he talks about Sinatra or Bowie, and he's got this pure smile on his face. Oh god, he's gonna pretend to be religious, isn't he? 

"Religion is something I hold close to my heart. I was born and raised Mormon, and God has always been the biggest inspiration to me. He is my shepherd, and I try to follow his light in every part of my life," Brendon responds, pure love in his voice.

Huh. Mormon? Patrick just stares at him for a moment. He never dreamed anything like that would ever be said in Brendon's voice and it's so foreign, so strange and unnatural that it throws him. He doesn't really know what to think, only able to stare at the satan-worshipping sinner that sits across the table from him. He watches Brendon's gaze get far away for a moment, this dreamy look on his face.

"There's this one verse that I always think of from... oh," he cuts off, apparently coming back to himself and then giving him a sheepish little smile, "sorry I always get a little carried away when the Lord is brought up."

"Oh don't apologize for that, sweetie. This is a household that loves Him," Patrick's mom responds with a smile, seemly pleased by his responses so far, but she's attempting to call his bluff by asking, "what verse were you thinking of? We'd love to hear it if you remember it."

Patrick bites his tongue; he knew this was going to happen. This is why he wanted to keep it simple, keep it something Brendon couldn't be challenged on. His eyes fix on Brendon, but there's no panic or nerves there. The younger boy inhales, and without missing a beat, he's speaking.

"'And the Lord said unto them also: Go forth among the Lamanites, thy brethren, and establish my word; yet ye shall be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls'," he recites the verse in a confident, strong, and driven voice, emotion and passion in the words that he speaks without a single fumble or hesitation.

Patrick is stunned to say the least. Brendon's mini spiel about religion before was nothing compared to the full bible verse that he just recited, innocence and love penetrating through the words to show this devout boy that Patrick has never met before. He swallows hard, ignoring the heat in his stomach. Why was that so hot? Why does he feel so warm? Why does he want to drag Brendon upstairs and make him repeat that while he fucks him hard into the mattress? He can picture an image in his mind, of Brendon with those bare arms and neat hair, dressed up in Mormon clothes, and god he wants to jump into that memory and debauch him. He needs to not think about pulling his tie and making him come in his dress pants. He needs to not think about the image of that Brendon on his knees with swollen lips. He really really really needs not to get hard at the dinner table.

"I hold that verse with me because it reminds me that I truly am an instrument, and there is a plan for me which begins and ends with me being a vessel of God's pure love for us," Brendon explains, sounding like a devout boy with childlike faith, talking about his passion.

Kevin and Megan are just as silent and surprised as Patrick, but their mom looks happier than she's been all day. The perfect answer for her, with the seemingly blinding devotion to back it up. Their dad looks impressed too, always a man of strong faith and hope that Patrick would settle down with a good Catholic girl someday.

"Thank you for sharing that, Brendon," Patrick's mom says with a smile, leaning over to take Brendon's hand for a moment, "I'm touched by your light, and that passage was very inspiring. I would love if you could say a few words at dinner tomorrow."

"It would be my pleasure," Brendon responds with a smile that makes Patrick far far too hopeful.

The rest of dinner continues without a hitch, smiles and laughter and "no ma'am"s and "yes sir"s, but Patrick can't focus. He's far too distracted by the boy across the table, with his faith and his verses and his lips and his smile. Patrick's mouth feels dry and his fingers itch to touch, to grab, to push and pull until he gets to have what he wants. He shoves a bite of food in his mouth and tries to focus on the taste of their home-cooked meal, but all he wants is a taste of Brendon.


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick’s eyes rarely stray from Brendon for the rest of dinner, watching his friend play his role so well that he's even got Trick caught up in it. That good, proper, religious boy across the table from him is just an act, just a character, but he's also someone that Trick needs a moment alone with. They finish dinner, clear the table, and then sit back down with dessert, only this time Patrick makes sure to sit next to the boy who's held his attention captive over the table. Brendon smiles at him when he slides into the seat next to him, and Trick wishes the boy wasn't so damn good at this. 

Conversation resumes, light and easy now that the interrogation has concluded for now, but Patrick still can't completely focus. He finds himself wanting to slide a hand under the table and into Brendon’s lap, but that's so off limits right now. He’s on edge again. His thoughts are halted when he feels a hand on his knee, and he thinks that Brendon’s mind must be where Trick’s was going. Only it doesn't slide any higher, just stays there, safe but grounding.

When Patrick looks over at his friend again, the younger boy seemingly isn't even paying attention to him. He's talking to Kevin about something that Patrick doesn't care to listen to, and there's nothing about him that indicates the touch except for the definitely-there weight of a hand. Brendon must feel Patrick's eyes, because he shoots a glance over, making eye contact just long enough to give a wink before he’s turning back to his conversation.

Patrick doesn't make any move to shake him off because, for some reason, it feels reassuring. And taunting. Brendon must be doing this on purpose, giving Patrick another reason for his mind to wander, a physical pressure that he can imagine shifting up and into trouble. Brendon laughs at something Kevin says, and Trick wants to get into trouble, wants to cause trouble all over Brendon. Multiple times. In different positions. 

Dessert ends in another round of cleanup, which then leads into popcorn in the microwave, and Netflix in the family room. Megan’s counting the seconds between pops and Kevin’s flipping through movies, trying to decide on something they can all watch. The whole family is settling in, getting comfy. Patrick's about to flop down on the couch, when he notices Brendon still standing by the edge of the room, looking at his phone for what feels like the first time today. He’s only checking it for a moment, and then he’s turning his attention back to the room and to his friend.

“I need to go plug my phone in real quick” he says with a smile, gesturing towards the staircase vaguely, phone in hand. 

Trick just responds with a “sure” but it doesn't look like anyone else is paying attention to the nicely dressed boy turning out of the room. Patrick bites his lip as he watches his friend go, weighing the pros and cons of his choices right now, before deciding fuck it. He mills around for another second to seem a bit less suspicious, and then he's giving a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and heading out of the room too.

He might have taken the stairs a bit too fast, and slid a little quickly on the hardwood floor around the corner, because he gets to the upstairs hallway to find Brendon just now approaching the guest bedroom door. The younger boy doesn't even notice him approaching until he’s closed half the distance between him, and even then he only has a moment to register what's happening before Patrick has him pinned against the door. 

They're in the same position that they were in just a few hours ago, only this time Patrick doesn't hesitate before he's pulling Brendon in by his collar and kissing him hard. He doesn't put distance between them this time either, just presses their bodies together as he makes the kiss deep and dirty. Brendon whines against Patrick’s lips, opening his mouth for the older boy as his hands find Patrick’s hips to keep him close. 

This is so unsafe. They could get caught here. He should’ve gotten them in the bedroom and behind a door. He shouldn’t be doing this at all. His family is downstairs but still too close for this to be safe. For some reason, that just fuels Patrick even more. He grinds his hips, and then shifts to press a thigh between Brendon’s legs, earning a desperate whimper from the younger boy. It sets Patrick’s veins on fire with want. They kiss and grind for another moment before Patrick finally manages to break them apart. 

When they make eye contact, it’s deja vu again. Having Brendon pinned, with wet lips and needy eyes, it’s a mirror of when Patrick first brought him up here. Only it’s heightened this time. Brendon’s lips are red, his face has a deep flush, his eyes so dark, his glasses are askew, he’s half hard against Patrick’s thigh, and Trick can feel a slight tremble in the younger boy. Just like earlier, this is the part where they stop. The part where Patrick steps back and calms down. The part where they compose themselves and go on.

But Patrick doesn’t care, he wants what he wants and Brendon so clearly wants it too. So he leans back in, only this time going for the boy’s jaw, dragging his lips along the clean-shaven skin there. Brendon tips his head back, breaths coming out rough and laboured as Patrick kisses his neck. Trick wants to bite and suck and mark Brendon right now, to leave him with dark love bites staining his skin. He wants it so badly, but he knows that’s a line he’s not going to cross right now, even if Brendon does seem willing to let him. 

His fingers work open the first closed button towards the top of Brendon’s shirt as his lips move down, and he feels the younger boy glances down the hall, but then not move to stop him. He pulls Brendon’s shirt open a little more, showing a bit more skin so that he can lean in and bite down on the stretch of it above the boy’s collarbone. The gasp that Patrick gets in response, the tightening of the grip on his hips, is so satisfying. He grins as he tugs at the skin, letting up after a moment to press a kiss to that spot, a desperate little noise falling from Brendon’s lips. He feels the younger boy’s hips grind against him, and then stutter to a stop.

“Ah, Trick, h-hey babe, hold on,” he breathes out, voice heavy with want even as he tugs at Patrick’s arm.

Patrick lets himself be pulled up, dark eyes finding Brendon’s after a moment. What? Why are they stopping? Why isn’t one of them on their knees right now? Brendon gives him a quick smile, but his eyes look just as hungry as Trick feels. 

“Parents, remember?” Brendon breathes out, nodding down the hallway, “family movie night?”

Patrick just blinks at him, trying to recenter himself and process what exactly Brendon’s saying, why exactly it’s an issue. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against his friend’s chest with a groan. Fuck. He takes a deep breath, knowing that Brendon’s right. Now is not the time for this. He knew that, he knows that. But it’s so hard to resist now that he has the image of the good Mormon Brendon with his bible verses and innocent love in his mind. He never knew he was into this.

“You okay?” Brendon asks, a smile in his voice as he runs a hand through Patrick’s hair.

Trick nods and then sighs before pulling back again. He looks at his friend and god, he doesn’t want to stop. He wants to drag the boy into the guest room and spread him out on the bed. But he’s right, he’s right, he’s right. They need to get back downstairs and act like a respectable couple. He hesitates for a second and then he’s leaning up again to press a quick kiss to Brendon’s lips. When he breaks the kiss, his hands take a few moments on their own to let go of the boy’s shirt, and then finally they’re broken apart, both of them trying to collect themselves. The biggest concern right now is not facing the Stumps with hard ons.

Brendon rights his glasses and says he’ll meet him downstairs after he plugs his phone in, and Trick needs to detour into his own room to compose himself for a moment. He really needs to figure out how to get his shit together. And soon.

When he makes his way back downstairs, there’s no collective stare from the family, no intense silence, no anything that would imply they had any idea of Brendon and Patrick’s little tryst upstairs. Kevin apparently still hasn’t decided on a movie, Megan’s on her phone, and their parent’s are talking over something that happened at work. No one even acknowledges Patrick until he takes his place on the couch. When his mom asks where Brendon is, Patrick just gives a casual, “oh I think he’s looking for his phone charger”, and that’s it.

Brendon wanders back in a few minutes later, hair neat, shirt buttoned, easily casual, with really nothing out of place on him. Everyone’s ready to watch whatever the hell Kevin picked out, and Brendon takes his place beside Trick easily. He throws an arm around Patrick’s shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and honestly, it does feel natural for Patrick to lean right into him. He relaxes against his boyfriend, settling in and taking the bowl of popcorn he gets handed. The two of them are pressed side to side, and Patrick can feel the younger boy’s warmth, only it’s different than the heat he felt upstairs a few minutes ago. Before it was hot and intense, burning him and filling him with want and need. Now, it’s comforting and inviting, like he just wants to close his eyes and fall asleep to the feel of it.

The whole family watches the movie, laughing and commenting on it, while the kids throw popcorn at the screen and try to catch it in their mouthes. The movie is okay, but there's no better actors than Patrick and Brendon tonight. They're so relaxed at each other’s touch, giving each other smiles and laughs that the other people in the room don't get. They play their parts so expertly, not flubbing a line or breaking character, and when Patrick ends up nodding off on Brendon’s shoulder an hour into the movie, well… That wasn't exactly scripted, but maybe Patrick's just that good at what he does. 


	7. Chapter 7

When Patrick heads to his room to turn in for the night, he's still a little groggy. He changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth, flips the lights off, and then falls back on top of the covers on his bed, but sleeping isn't really what he wants to do right now. He wants Brendon in here with him. Or he wants to go find the boy. It's getting late and once everyone's asleep he can find somewhere to be alone with Brendon, but Kevin is still listening to music in the room next to his, the light is still on in the hall, and he can hear the voices of his parents floating softly under his door.

He listens to the soft sounds of life in the house, and then reaches for his phone. Pete's chat has been on silent all day, and it seems to have been a good idea since the older guy has sent him more than a couple messages. He pulls them up and skims over what he missed, responding only to get a near-instant message back from his friend. They talk about nothing, and Patrick's responses start to get a little bit incoherent and they come farther apart. 

When his phone vibrates in his hand, it startles him out of the light sleep he hadn't even realized he'd fallen into. He rubs his eyes and takes note of the silence in the house. No lights, no music, no voices. How long was he out? He checks his phone and sees Brendon's name popping up on a message notification. He unlocks it and checks the text, just a simple question, "You up?"

"Am now," he sends as a reply, watching the bubble mark itself as read immediately. There's a soft knock on his door, and Patrick must still be some level of out of it, because it takes him a minute to register who it is. He rolls out of bed, and just slides his socked feet across the floor rather than walking. He'll be awake in a minute but right now his feet just feel heavy. When he answers the door, and Brendon's standing there, waiting with phone in hand. 

"Hey," Brendon says simply, sliding his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

There's nothing significant about what Brendon's wearing. Just comfy pants and a t shirt, glasses on his face and slightly rumpled hair, but Patrick think he looks so cute right now. His thoughts stay that innocent until that shirt catches his eye. It looks like the kind of thing kids would wear to CCD back in middle school. It's got an anchor and in big letters "JESUS is the anchor of my soul". Oh god. Why is Brendon trying to kill him? And why is this even a thing that's able to kill him?

Patrick glances down the hallway, double checking that all doors are closed, all lights off, and then he's grabbing the front of that shirt and pulling his friend into his room. He shuts the door behind them, locking it for good measure even though there's not really any reason someone would try to come into his room unannounced. When he turns back, Brendon is standing, hands in his pockets, looking around Trick's room. It's dark, but the windows let in enough moonlight to give a bit of illumination. Fuck. Why does Brendon always look so good in natural light?

Patrick lets his friend look around at what he can see, and it's only now that he realizes how messy he's made his room in 48 hours. Brendon’s been in Patrick's room back at school more times to count, so he's probably come to expect the piles of clothes on the floor, the upside down duffle bag, the cluttered bedside table, the strewn pieces of paper, the over-full wastepaper basket. It's as messy as it was when he was a teenager. Some things never change. 

Brendon turns back to Patrick with an interested and somewhat playful look on his face. For some reason those eyes make Trick’s heart stop. The younger boy moves towards him, taking very deliberate slow and easy steps, a sly smile sliding across his face. Patrick stays where he is, fixated on the guy approaching him. He doesn't stop until he's maybe a foot in front of Trick. 

“So tell me,” Brendon says, voice that purposeful tone of casual, eyes on his hands as they reach for Patrick's hips, taking a pause before his lips wrap around the older boy’s name, “Patrick.”

The younger boy bites his lip, and then he's lifting his gaze to catch Patrick’s stare again. Patrick feels like he can't breathe for a second as Brendon takes a step backwards and pulls him with him, backing them up slowly. Those eyes are so dark, holding him captive as they move back towards Patrick’s bed. When the back of Brendon's legs hit the edge, he stops and then sits down, not moving his hands from Patrick's hips and not breaking their eye contact, looking up at him with those bedroom eyes.

“How many boys have you fucked on this bed?” he asks, voice thick as that smile turns into a smirk. 

Patrick feels like he can't really breathe for a minute, caught up with the sight of Brendon below him, but then something switch flips on in his brain. This, this is sex. This is why they're together in the first place. A hand reaches out for Brendon, fingers threading in the boy’s hair and pulling his head back a bit. The little intake of breath he gets from that makes his pulse quicken. 

“It’s about to be one more,” he answers, voice more level than he's felt all day, and with that he's pushing Brendon back onto the bed. 

He doesn't waste time following the boy down, climbing on the bed right on top of him to kiss him. Brendon is kissing back immediately, just as eager, but a bit more desperate. The leverage is nice, Patrick doesn't have to put any weight on the boy below him to pin him down, keep him right where he wants him. He has the upper hand and Brendon is oh so willing to let Patrick take control. It takes some scrambling to move up the bed so they're both fully on it, but it would have been significantly easier if they had cared to stop making out for a moment. But they didn't, just stayed pressed together, drowning in each other. 

Patrick’s between Brendon’s legs, one hand on the younger boy’s hip, pushing him down against the bed firmly. Brendon grips Trick’s shirt tight, pulling him close, and they’re both hungry, so hungry for each other. There’s so much heat between them now, building off of what they had started earlier. They have time now, they have privacy now, Patrick can make Brendon come now.

Patrick pulls himself away, needing to catch his breath for a second. They’re both panting and turned on. When Patrick actually looks at Brendon, the younger boy’s glasses are fogged and awry, making him look kind of goofy in the moment. Trick doesn’t say anything, just reaches to take them off of the younger boy, fingers just touching the frame when Brendon tips his head up and kisses his wrist. It catches him off guard, and his hand pauses where it is. When Brendon looks up at him, it’s with a little smile on his lips, and Patrick just has to lean in to give them a little peck. This time, when he pulls back, he takes Brendon’s glasses off with him.

He leans over to place them on his bedside table, and feels a hand on his ass and another one at the front of his shirt, pulling him back. Brendon whines, trying to bring Patrick down into a kiss. Trick goes willingly, and lets the boy underneath him pull his hips closer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against Brendon’s lips before he's biting the boy's lower lip and groaning a little, “you were so hot tonight.”

“Yeah?” Brendon asks, letting out a puff of a laugh that’s just a breathless little exhale. 

“Mm hmm,” Patrick mumbles, sliding a hand under Brendons shirt to touch more of his skin, to get more contact, “you were being such a good boy.”

Brendon makes a pleased little noise at Patrick's touch, breathing getting a bit shaky. He must think that touching is a good idea, because then he's sliding a hand down the back of Trick’s boxers and bending one of his knees. His other hand stays fisted in Patrick's shirt, like he’s just itching to tear it off of him.

“I can be a good boy when I want to be,” Brendon responds with a smile, before he's pulling back and Patrick’s getting the full effect of the dark-eyed look up through his lashes, that taunting little lip bite, the breathy, “I want to be a good boy for you.”

“God,” Patrick breathes out before he’s diving back in, kissing Brendon hard and moving his hips to grind against him. 

Brendon kisses back at first, but then he's giving a breathless little laugh into Patrick's mouth. He breaks the kiss only slightly, lips still against each other's, but giving him room to speak. 

“Speaking of…” he whispers, pausing a moment to give Patrick another quick kiss, “you seemed pretty distracted at dinner tonight.”

“You’re distracting,” is Patrick’s mumbled reply, turned on and hungry, keeping up that friction between them. 

“Hm,” Brendon breathes, before he’s pushing Patrick back enough for the older boy to get a look at him, at the little smirk on the boys lips, “I never knew you had a religious kink, Stump.”

Patrick won't admit to the rush of want in his veins as he remembers dinner, remembers Brendon reciting bible verses from memory. 

“I don't,” he denies, trying to go back in for a kiss to drown out the image in his head, but Brendon turns his face to the side to block the kiss, laughing a little.

“You don't? So you weren't interested when I started talking about the Lord?” he asks, and all Patrick can do is shake his head in a lie, feeling anticipation at that look in Brendon’s eyes, “oh I thought you liked when I started talking about my salvation as an instrument in the hands of our Heavenly Father. ”

Patrick bites his lip, and his eyes completely give him away, if his dick didn't already. Something shifts in Brendon, and then he's not that teasing guy anymore, his eyes go a bit more innocent, licking his lips a little bit. He gives Patrick a look, and then Trick’s got the kid from dinner under him. His arms are still bare, he’s got that youth group shirt on, his hair is rumpled, he moves both hands to hold tricks shirt lightly, and he chews a little on his lip. Fuck, he's good. 

“Well I only brought it up because, as a vessel of His love, ‘I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded’,” he starts, tone changing as he recites what is apparently scripture verbatim, “‘for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them’.”

Okay so maybe Patrick has a little bit of a religious kink. He tries not to groan, but the sound still makes it past his lips. He goes for a kiss again, and this time Brendon lets him have one, opening his mouth to let Trick have full range, so pliant under him. They make out for another few minutes, grinding and trying (and failing) to catch the noises they're making. They finally break apart when they’re out of breath, sucking down air as their hearts pound. 

Brendon’s eyes are so dark they're nearly black, and his lips are swollen and pink, slick and shiny in the faint light. It's so hot that Trick finds himself having an even harder time catching his breath. Brendon starts to make a move, hesitates a moment, and then carries on, but not for a kiss. He shifts up, head turning, and then he's pressing his lips against that spot below Patrick's ear that makes his knees weak. The older boy’s eyes squeeze shut, and he bites his lip hard, moaning when Brendon mouthes at his skin. Lips and then tongue and then breath, it's making Patrick dizzy, making his pulse thunder as every wet hot touch sends pleasure through him. Brendon knows how to make him come undone. 

Trick almost protests when that touch leaves, but Brendon's only moving away far enough to ghost his lips over the older boy’s ear. 

“‘Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy’,” he whispers, and God, how much did the boy memorize?

Patrick's hand moves back to Brendon’s hip, jerking him forward a bit, pulling him into a better position. There's a sharp intake of breath from Brendon, and Patrick leans in to kiss his neck. 

“‘A-And the Messiah cometh in the fulness of time, that he may redeem the children of ah… of men from the fall’,” Brendon continues, voice shaky now as Patrick rocks his hips into his and licks at his skin.

Tricks hand moves again, this time to the front of Brendon’s sweatpants. He pulls at the strings on the front, working the knot free, and he feels Brendon swallow hard. 

“Keep going,” Patrick mumbles with warm breath against the boy’s neck after Brendon doesn't resume his recitation, hoping that maybe he’s got another line or two in that brain of his. 

“‘B-because that they are redeemed... from the fall they have become free forever, knowing good from evil’,” he continues, voice shaky but not forgetting the words as Patrick tugs at his waistband, moving to slip a hand below it, “‘to act for themselves and not to be acted upon, save it be’- oh.”

Brendon whines when Trick wraps his fingers around his cock. Patrick grins when he feels those hips jerk up into his touch. He knows Brendon knows they need to be quiet, but he also knows that Brendon comes apart so easily. Patrick knows how to take him apart. He starts to move his hand slowly, teasing and not enough, and he bites the boy’s skin, not too hard, but enough to get a little cry. Dangerous, still too dangerous. 

“Be quiet. And don't stop,” Patrick tells him, and they're not requests, they're commands. And Brendon's good for him. He’ll do as he’s told. 

“Ah… ‘Save it be… Save it be by the punishment of the law at the gr-great and last day’,” Brendon manages, breathing a bit more laboured, “‘according to the commandments which God hath given’.”

Patrick cock throbs, because fuck Brendon is so hot, it's making his head swim. He's satisfied with the scripture and he kisses Brendon's neck, moving his hand a bit faster now, with more intent. The boy makes a little noise at the touch, but it's restrained, and Patrick knows he's trying so hard to be good. Trick pulls back and moves to kiss Brendon again, a rough and bruising attack on the younger boys mouth. When they break apart, Brendon's licking his lips and taking an inhale. 

“‘Wherefore, men are free according to the fl-flesh, and all things are given them which are expedient unto man’,” he breathes out, shaky and needy as Patrick jerks him off. 

The older boy didn't realize he had more, thought that was the extent of his memorization, but apparently not. Somehow Brendon's still going, saying words that make Patrick's veins feel like they're alight. It may all be faked, but it sounds real enough to make his cock twitch. Trick keeps up his pace, the right speed and grip that Brendon loves. They've done this enough to know what gets each other off. He twists his wrist, moves his thumb, and the boy trembles in a way that tells Patrick he’s close. 

“‘And they are… Fuck… They are free to ch-choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men’,” and then there's another whine, another moment when Brendon’s a bit too desperate, “‘or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil’.”

There's pants between all of his words now, his grip on Trick’s shirt tightening with one hand, and then Patrick feels the other on his shoulder, clutching him. When Patrick looks down at him, he's got his lips parted and his eyes half-lidded, looking so impossibly hot. Trick leans down and bites his lower lip, and the noise he gets in return sounds helpless. 

“Come for me,” he mumbles, against Brendon's lips, not slowing until he feels Brendon's body jerk, feels his nails on his shoulder, hears his gasp and moan.

Patrick jerks him through his orgasm, helping him ride it out as long as possible, head rolling back and mouth in a little oh shape. Brendon's so hot when he comes, letting go and overwhelmed with pleasure, and Trick loves to watch him. His hand doesn't slow until he hears a little whine from the younger boy. 

They've made a bit of a mess of between Brendon’s sweatpants and Tricks hand, but neither of them seem to care really. In fact, as soon as Patrick's pulling his hand out, Brendon's eyes are snapping to it with interest. Once the boy is coherent enough, he’s sitting up and and pushing at Patrick's shoulder to flip them.

They’re both a little shaky when Brendon moves to straddle trick. His hand catches Tricks wrist, and they hold eye contact as Brendon leans in and sucks two of those come-sticky digits into his mouth. They both give little moans as Brendon's tongue licks Trick’s fingers, sucking them clean. The older boy takes the lead again after a moment, moving them in and out of Brendon's mouth, transfixed by the sight of those lips wrapped around them. 

Patrick lets Brendon take his time licking come off his fingers and then every bit of messy skin. Well, if nothing else good comes from this week, at least he has this. Those dark eyes and that wicked smile Brendon gives him when he goes down, they make all of this trouble feel worth it.

\--

Patrick doesn't last long once Brendon gets his mouth on him. He really didn't stand a chance; he was already beyond turned on and the younger boy is damn good at giving head. 

He relaxes back against his bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling with stars still at the edges of his vision. He feels Brendon hit the sheets next to him. He feels so warm and sated, veins full of slowly fading pleasure. Brendon shifts a little and Patrick closes his eyes, just breathing and letting this relaxed and pleased feeling fill him. 

After a bit, he feels sleep licking at his thoughts, and remembers that there's still someone in his bed who's not supposed to be here, someone still and quiet. He blinks his eyes back open and looks over at his friend, prepared to have to wake him and send him back down the hall, but Brendon's not asleep. The boy is laying on his side, eyes a bit droopy but still conscious, watching Trick with a smile on his lips and a content and happy look on his face. When their gazes meet, that smile grows a little bit. 

“What’re you smiling at?” Trick asks when the other boy doesn’t break the silence.

“You,” Brendon answers simply, as if that’s all the explanation Trick needs.

Before Trick can form a response to that cryptic answer, Brendon’s moving close to him. The younger boy throws an arm around his torso and presses against his side, head on his shoulder and feet tangling up with his. Patrick shifts, and Brendon adjusts enough to let Trick get an arm around him. It’s comfortable and warm, and Trick feels in danger of nodding off. They both are. Brendon’s eyes are closed and his breathing has already started to slow.

“Hey,” Patrick whispers, shaking Brendon a little, keeping him awake, “you can’t sleep here, not with my family here.”

Brendon looks up at him, disappointment so clear on his face. He doesn’t look like he wants to move, and Patrick’s prepared to make him get up. Then, the boy sighs and presses a little closer, but he sounds resigned.

“Yeah, I know,” Brendon mumbles, staying there for another moment before pulling away.

The boy sits up and rubs at his eyes, shaking his head like he’s mentally telling himself to wake up. Patrick fumbles for his phone on the side table, managing to find it and then check the time. It’s way too late, almost 1:30 and he knows that there’s a lot to get done tomorrow. He sighs, and when he looks around his phone at Brendon, the younger boy is looking at him again, biting his lip idly. 

Without saying anything, Brendon leans back in, hovering over Patrick to kiss him. Trick’s free hand comes up to the younger boy’s face, holding him close as he anticipates a rough kiss with the taste of come on their tongues. There’s nothing dirty about the kiss though, it’s just a slow press of lips, soft and lingering. It’s a bit surprising to get from his friend, but when the boy pulls back he’s got this easy casual Brendon-like smile on his lips. 

“Guess tomorrow’s too busy for you to keep me up all night tonight, huh?” he asks, getting an eye roll from Patrick as he reaching for his glasses on the bedside table, flicking them open and then putting them back on his face.

“Oh you know,” he responds with a shrug, a smile on his lips, “just introducing my boyfriend to my whole family for the first time. No big deal.”

Brendon laughs a little, but he sounds tired. Trick sits up in bed and tosses his phone back on the nightstand as the other boy swings off of the bed, stretching his back and then his arms with a little groan. Patrick has a second to wonder if Brendon’s cover-up is really that good, or if he reapplied it before coming over. Not that it matters really, but he’s curious. Seems like it would be irritating and something you’d wanna wash off as soon as you could. But then again, that shirt isn’t something Brendon normally would sleep in. He likes big shirts and sweaters. They both keep up the illusion though, so he’s probably just keeping the image up in case he got intercepted in the hallway.

“Mmm gonna go pass out now,” Brendon mumbles before turning back to Trick with a small smile and saying, “well, goodnight Trick.”

“Night, Brendon,” Patrick responds with a little wave, eyelids heavy at the promise of rest. 

The boy hesitates a moment, almost like there’s something he’s debating saying or doing. He must decide against whatever it is though, because then he’s turning towards the door and heading out, shutting it quietly behind him. 

Patrick doesn’t realize that his room kinda smells like sex, sweat, and come until he lays back down, smushing his face into his pillow. It’s not bad, and with the way their “relationship” revolves around hooking up, it always smells like Brendon to him. He starts to fade soon after, mentally promising himself to find a way to fuck Brendon for real tomorrow as his last coherent thought before he passes out.


	8. Chapter 8

Patrick startles awake to the sound of pounding on his door and his sister yelling through it to tell him to wake up. It's too early for this. He doesn't know the time but it doesn't matter because whatever the time is, it's too early. 

“‘M up!” he calls in a half-asleep grumble just to make the sound _ stop _ . 

Megan yells that mom wants him to get up and come down, and Patrick responds that yeah yeah, he will. As soon as her feet stomp away, he's turning his face into his pillow and not moving. He almost falls back asleep but then he grumbles at the world and forces himself to sit up. He reaches for his phone to check the time, and sighs when he sees that it's past 11. Too late for him to argue for going back to sleep. He sighs and goes through the motions to get him downstairs before someone else comes for him. 

The scene he walks into is a happy one. There's fruit at the table, holiday ingredients and spices on the counter, the smell of coffee brewing, the five other people in the house talking, and a happy buzz in the air. He still feels tired and grumpy though, but everyone here has come to expect it from him. When he mumbles a good morning to everyone, Brendon gives him a warm smile and a, “morning, babe,” in response. He sits at the kitchen counter and slumps, chin in his hand as he tries to make himself feel at least a little bit friendly this morning. 

“Here, made you a cup,” Brendon says with a smile, sliding a mug of what Trick assumes to be coffee over the counter to the grumpy guy. 

“Thanks,” he responds, lifting it to his lips as soon as he can, needing caffeine in him. 

He takes a sip and realizes it's not coffee that Brendon gave him. He looks at the cup and then back up at the boy across the counter from him who has his attention elsewhere. 

“You made me tea,” he says, making Brendon turn his focus back on him, and he’s not sure if it's more of a statement or a question. 

“That's what you like in the morning,” Brendon responds simply, a warm smile on his face. 

Patrick looks at him for real this time, brain finally catching up on the fact that Brendon is here and on their little grift they've been playing. The younger boy still has that Jesus shirt on from last night, only he's wearing clean jeans, and those cute glasses on his nose. Without the dress pants and button down, he looks a bit more like the Brendon Patrick knows, but there's still that innocence about him that makes him feel new. 

Trick’s surprised that Brendon remembered, or even really knew that tea is his go-to. It's a sweet action that plays up the boyfriend angle, but also one with thought behind it. It makes Patrick feel happy and a little less grumpy, and he returns Brendon’s smile easily.

“Yeah, it is,” he responds, raising the cup back up to his lips, but pausing just to add, “thanks, B.”

He doesn't know where the small nickname comes from. It's not something he, or any of their friends, normally call Brendon. Sometimes he uses ‘Bren’, but that's it really. His friend doesn't look confused though, instead his smile just gets a little brighter and if Trick didn't know better, he would say that the look in Brendon’s eyes is almost adoring.

\--

A small hustle and bustle picks up in the household after a bit more of their lazy morning. Apparently Brendon had gone with Patrick’s mom to the supermarket this morning, so the ingredients and supplies have already been taken care of. He must've had time to bond, and Brendon must've been good and polite and charming as can be, because he seems to have secured his position on her good side. They definitely both seem relaxed: his mom because she seems not to be analyzing his every step, and Brendon because he was able to make himself be liked. 

It's about an hour later when one of their relatives texts asking when they should come over and Brendon decides that he should probably change into something nicer. Trick really didn't need him to do anything more than make his parents not hate him, but he really is making an effort to be liked by the whole family. Brendon tells them he's gonna go change, but before he can leave the room, Patrick’s mom is calling for him. 

“Oh Brendon, sweetie. I'm sorry, but we’re gonna need that room when my sister gets here in a bit,” she says with an apologetic voice, “we’ll have to move you.”

“That's no problem!” Brendon responds with an understanding smile, “I can move my stuff out of the room once I change. Where should I bring it?”

“Hm,” is all his mom says, thinking over that question. 

The problem is, they didn't expect Brendon this week. Sleeping arrangements had already been all set. Patrick’s aunt and uncle are taking the guest room, his younger cousins are taking the blow up mattress, his grandma is taking Megan’s room while Megan stays with their parents, and everyone else is set. So there's really no place for a college kid to sleep. 

Actually, there is one other open place to sleep… And well, Patrick loves his bed. He grew up sleeping in that room so the bed feels like home to him. He’s got those perfect pillows that are not too soft not too firm, and the bed is turned away from the windows just right to avoid the morning sun. Plus, it's out of the way. It's upstairs and at the end of the hall and the only way he’s going to be woken up is if someone decides to wake him. He really wants to keep his bed and he really doesn't want to sleep on the downstairs couch. Yet, he still finds himself opening his mouth to talk. 

“He can take my room,” Trick offers, “I can just sleep on the couch down here.”

The surprise he gets is palpable. It's not exactly a secret that he tends to sleep in late, and that he turns into a bit of cranky asshole when he wakes up early. So no wonder him offering to take the couch in the hub of tomorrow's activity has everyone spooked. It's almost guaranteed he’ll be woken up before 10, likely close to 9. Then, Brendon's cracking a little smile. 

“If I know you, that room is probably too messy for even my luggage to fit,” Brendon says with a wink just for Patrick, “I think I'll take my chances on the couch.”

Trick just rolls his eyes, even though he's smiling, and his mom laughs at the comment. They all know it's true; Patrick is and always has been, a messy slob. 

“Then maybe we can…” his mom starts before trailing off with a frown, thinking until her thoughts get interrupted by her husband. 

“Pat, just let him stay in Rick’s room with him,” he says with a sigh, like he doesn't think this decision is that big of a deal, “Brendon’s a good kid, I don't have a problem with it.”

Patrick sees the flash of excited hopefulness in his friend’s face as the younger boy looks from Trick’s dad back to his mom. He can guess why Brendon looks like that, because it's likely the same reason Trick’s heart skips a beat. They won't have to sneak around, he gets Brendon in his bed to fuck when they turn in, and then again in the middle of the night, and once more in the morning.

“Well, I guess it's okay,” is Patrick’s mom’s response, and the two boys can't help shooting each other smiles. Hey, at least Brendon didn't give a fist pump or cheer like he seems to want to do. 

“I’ll help you grab your stuff,” Patrick tells him, already heading to the stairs with Brendon in tow. 

Brendon makes some joke about the state of Trick’s room, and the older boy laughs at his so-called boyfriend, feeling so light. It's easy to pretend to be happy with Brendon. 

Getting up to the guest room, it's the first time Patrick doesn't get the younger boy pinned somewhere. They're busy talking and not really paying attention to anything in particular. Brendon’s been pretty neat in the room, keeping everything together and ready to be moved. Patrick grabs his suitcase, and Brendon goes for everything else. It's only when Patrick's bedroom door clicks behind them that their conversation fades. 

Brendon throws his stuff on Patrick’s bed, looking around just like he did last night. Only this time, in the light, he can take it the place for real. Patrick is a bit of a dork (okay a lot of a dork), and it's something Brendon knows. He loves Star Wars and old music and video games and cartoons, and Pete and his place has a decent amount of stuff to show that. Yeah, Brendon knows, but high school Patrick was significantly more nerdy.

He’s got a Michael Jackson poster on one wall, and a Simpsons one on another. He's got a bookshelf filled with stuff that hasn't been touched with years, along with a record player and speaker set in the corner with a ton of cd and records that he left behind. 

Brendon wanders first over to Trick’s bookshelf, looking at his teenage and childhood collection. It's littered with books and magazines, CDs and games, and a good number of comics. There's also a tmnt figure or two (to match the ones on his desk and window sill) to make him feel even more childish. About eye-level to Brendon is a Lego x-wing Patrick built and put on a stand a few years ago. The younger boy smiles as he looks up and down the shelves, but then his eyes come back up to rest on the little fighter in front of him. 

“Did you build this?” he asks, pointing and looking towards Trick with a smile. 

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick responds with a shrug, feeling rather lame, “at some point in high school.”

Back then, Patrick was far from a cool or popular kid. He never really cared about that stuff though, just tried to focus on what he actually cared about. Like music. He's been playing in hardcore bands since he was old enough to drive into the city, and back then he really did live for the weekends when he could forget about school and just fall into music. School wasn't anything he cared about and he was never really noticed much except for being a nerdy guy without really any friends at school. 

Trick tries to imagine what Brendon was like in high school. It's only been months since the teenager graduated, so he guesses much the same: ripped skinny jeans, snapbacks, and t shirts, partying, drinking, and smoking with friends, a decent student with a friendly air about him. He was probably a pretty popular guy too. Trick knows that if they met in high school, they wouldn't have ended up in the kind of relationship they have now. It makes him feel a little embarrassed to be outed as such a nerdy kid to someone as cool as Brendon must have been.

“It's cool,” Brendon responds with a smile, stepping back and tilting his head down to look at the rest of what's on the bookshelf. 

Patrick shifts awkwardly back and forth, before deciding to pull Brendon’s suitcase in further and find a spot to set it down, zipping it open for his friend. He feels like he's being examined, and when he turns towards Brendon, the boy is looking around the room again. It's deja vu back to last night, and Patrick can tell the younger boy wants to snoop some more, but then he's looking back at Trick with a little smirk. 

“You were kinda nerdy in high school, huh?” he asks, but it's a good-natured question. 

“Still am,” Patrick responds with a shrug and a smile.

“You are,” the younger boy agrees with a little laugh, “it's cute.”

Brendon heads over to Patrick, stopping right before him to reach to tilt the older boy's head up for a kiss. It's sweet and gentle, and Trick knows he could get used to kisses like these. Kisses from his boyfriend. When they break away, Brendon gives a little huff of breath.

“If we’re gone too long, they’ll start to wonder,” Brendon tells him, biting his own lip and clearly not wanting to separate. 

“If you strip in front of me,  _ I’ll  _ start to wonder,” Patrick responds with a small smirk and something a little playful on his face. 

Brendon laughs at that, grinning and pressing his lips to Patrick’s in one more quick kiss. 

“Go ahead and get back to them, I'll be down once I change,” Brendon says, and then he’s pulling away and heading to his suitcase, looking through his stuff.

Patrick would love to stay and watch the show, but they really can't be up here alone for too long, and he knows his hands might get a bit distracted with an almost-naked Brendon. Trick says he’ll see him down there, and heads for the door. He’d be lying if he said he didn't hesitate to close it behind him just to see Brendon take off his shirt. 


	9. Chapter 9

The first guests arrive at around 3pm. It's Patrick’s aunt and uncle who are taking over Brendon’s room along with their three kids. It's the first time Patrick actually has to introduce his boyfriend to anyone. He hugs them hello and asks how their ride was, responds to their small talk, and then when he steps to Brendon’s side, hand on his lower back, introduces him. His uncle greets him with a friendly smile and a firm handshake, treating Brendon as if he were Patrick’s girlfriend or maybe only just a friend. His aunt however is a bit more observant and tight-lipped in her smile, echoing the air of her sister. If Trick ever had doubt that she was his mom’s sibling, all he’d have to do is look at those critical eyes. Their kids are young, the three of them all under 13, so Brendon doesn't really mean anything to them, especially not when he’s dressed so proper and boring to them. 

They get the couple settled into the guest room, Brendon being happy to carry their luggage and handle the pleasantries. Trick runs upstairs to change, and then the catch-up talk starts. He gets asked about school, about life, about friends, and he knows that his answers are gonna be so monotonous the next time he gets asked these questions. Brendon starts to be asked about his class level, his major, but then the doorbell is ringing and Trick is being pulled away from the conversation to greet more of his family. 

From there, it a gradual gathering of people. They have a decently sized family, but they're also fairly spread out although mostly within a car ride away, so thanksgiving ends up being a pretty big affair. Patrick juggles talking to his relatives with introducing Brendon. He loves seeing everyone but every time they meet his boyfriend, his nerves spike. It gets easier over time, and Patrick actually starts to like to see the surprised looks on everyone's faces. He's just starting to feel relaxed when he's talking to a cousin and she asks how long the two of them have been dating. All he says in response is, “uh um it’s been uh,” as his brain freezes trying to calculate a lie that will sound accurate. But then it's Brendon to the rescue. 

“Just over three months,” he responds smoothly and with a smile before glancing over at Patrick with a head tilt, “somehow it feels longer and shorter than that.”

Patrick nods his head and agrees, and his cousin just laughs a little and says she knows the feeling well, looking over at her husband not too far away. Once she's gone, Patrick lets out a sigh of relief, and Brendon’s taking his hand briefly, leaning in close to whisper in the older boy’s ear. 

“Keep the details as true as possible. We’ve been together three months, we met through a mutual friend, I'm a freshman at DePaul, my major is Music Therapy,” he mumbles, voice low even though no one is paying attention to him.

Patrick takes a breath and Brendon squeezes his hand. The idea of stretching the truth feels a lot easier than having to make up details and hoping Brendon’s not contradicting him. He nods and Brendon leans in to give him a peck on the lips. They've done so well this far, they can definitely keep it up. 

After a bit, it feels more natural talking about Brendon. It even gets to the point where he’s kinda glad to be asked about him. It's almost fun, in a way, to be doing this, and it's increasingly easy to imagine having this relationship with Brendon. 

It's not too long later when Trick catches sight of his grandma rolling her suitcase through their foyer. He scans the room briefly for Brendon, and then goes to pull his boyfriend from his conversation. At the curious look he gets, Trick just says that he's got another person to introduce him to. When Patrick pulls them over to the older woman and greets her with a warm and welcome “Grams!”, he sees Brendon stand up a little straighter, put on a smile. Trick can guess that he's expecting her to be rigid and closed-minded. Luckily, this is probably the easiest introduction they’ll have today. 

“Trickster!” she responds with a smile, pulling him in for a hug, and when he kisses her cheek and pulls back, she adds, “I think you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”

“I think I might have,” he responds with a laugh and a smile, one that’s bit more genuine than it has been lately.

Trick looks over at Brendon, and then he's stepping back and right up to his side. He winds an arm naturally around his boyfriend’s waist, relaxed and easy. The younger boy seems a bit surprised at the forwardness of the action. 

“Grams, this is my boyfriend, Brendon,” Trick introduces, “and Brendon this is my grandma.”

Brendon gives a polite little, “it's nice to meet you!”, but before he can say anything else, he's being interrupted. 

“It's about time our Trick brought one of his boys home!,” she cuts him off with a smile, giving him a once over, and then addressing Patrick, “he's a hottie, I think you found yourself a good one.”

Patrick looks at Brendon while the younger boy laughs a little at the response. Trick feels him relax at that response and breathe a little easier. It’s still funny to Patrick that the oldest member of their family has always been the most accepting. 

“You treat our Trickster right, you hear me?” she says, waving a finger in Brendon face playfully, “now will one of you boys help me bring my suitcase upstairs?”

\---

As dinner approaches, Trick starts to see less of Brendon as the polite younger boy darts into the kitchen to help Patrick’s mom whenever she needs it. Trick would be lying if he said he wasn't keeping an eye out for every time Brendon came back out to mingle just to see him with his sleeves pushed up and face a little flushed from the heat of the kitchen. He would be lying if he said it wasn't a good look on him. Then again, Patrick hasn't exactly ever seen a bad look on him. Ripped jeans and a snapback, dress pants and a button down, sweatpants and a t shirt and glasses, or just stripped down naked, Brendon looks good in just about anything.

Trick has been getting increasingly antsy, the smell of food filling the house as dinnertime grows near. He's hungry, he's hungry hungry hungry and he wants to eat. He heads into the kitchen when Brendon hasn't emerged for a bit and the scent has been calling him. There's food on the counters, almost ready to be served, and Trick is reminded why Thanksgiving is one of his favorite holidays. The turkey is out of the oven and smells amazing, and there’s everything from mashed potatoes to cranberry sauce to gravy in sight and smell.    
  
"God it smells amazing in here," he breathes out, knowing he sounds dreamy. What can he say? He's a fat kid.   
  
Brendon turns from where he's checking on something in the the oven and grins.   
  
"I know, I can't wait to finally eat!" he responds, eyeing that turkey with the same amount of hunger that Patrick feels.   
  
Patrick's mom has her back turned when she tells them that it'll be about another half an hour before they can eat, and Trick can't help creeping a little closer to the food laying out. He eyes it and then decides to reach over for the little basket of fresh-baked rolls. He's not as slick as he hopes he is, though, because his mom catches him with a slap to his wrist before he can grab one.   
  
"Ow!" he yells, and he can see Brendon avert his gaze with a smirk. Ass.   
  
"No stealing! Wait until we're all at the table!" his mom scolds, and Patrick sighs, defeated, "now can you bring the salad and the water pitcher out to the dining room for me?"   
  
His stomach growls and he grumbles an "okay", grabbing the stuff off the counter, and bringing the stuff out. Salad isn't even something he can steal a bite from. He places it on the table, and all he can think about is filling his plate and stuffing his face. He's gonna eat till he's sick. He's about to head back into the crowd, but when he turns, Brendon's in the room and going up to him. He opens his mouth to say hey, but then the younger boy is holding something out to him.   
  
"Here," he says, offering Trick a warm roll, "snagged you one."   
  
Patrick grins, wide and hungry as he takes it from Brendon. He glances over his boyfriend's shoulder to make sure he doesn't have an angry mom in tow, and is relieved when she isn't in sight.   
  
"Awesome! Thanks," he tells Brendon, leaning in to press a kiss to the taller boy's cheek, "you're the best, B."   
  
"You know it," Brendon responds with a happy little smile, cheeks having a bit of color as he bites his lip, looking so cute.   
  
Patrick rips off a piece and bites into it, moaning loudly at the taste. Fuck, he can't wait until he can have the rest of his food. This is gonna taste so good soaked in gravy. Brendon's giving him this amused look, and Trick almost feels embarrassed for a moment. He rips off another piece and holds it up for Brendon.   
  
"Want a bite?" he asks with a smile.   
  
"Oh there's definitely something I want a bite of," Brendon responds with a smirk and a wink, before he's leaning down to bite the piece of bread right out of Patrick's hand, wrapping his lips around Trick's fingers for a moment.   
  
Patrick doesn't have a response for that, just stares at his friend munching and giving a moan that echoes his. He just might have forgotten that good ol' dirty Brendon was in there under those nice clothes and that coverup.    
  
"I gotta go help finish up with food," Brendon says, vaguely gesturing back towards the kitchen, "don't miss me too much while I'm gone."   
  
The younger boy leans in for an innocent press of lips, but then he's reaching to grab Trick's ass briefly, leaving Patrick thrown and staring after he turns and leaves the room. He looks down at the roll in his hand and takes another bite, brain taking a second to catch up from these two different Brendons spinning him around.

He heads back out, munching on the last of his bread and hoping to find something or someone to distract him from staring at the clock until those 30 minutes are up. Now that he's seen the food and tasted a bite of it, it's all he can think about. Was he this hungry before he went in there? It feels like a century of chit chat before his mom finally comes out and calls everyone to dinner. He tries not to run and just barely manages to keep at least one foot on the floor at a time. He must still come across as desperate because Brendon's laughing a little at him when Patrick gets in the room, the younger boy placing one of the final plates on the table. His eyes must be as big as one of the dinner plates which he's planning to pile high with food. Trick slides into a seat, eager and hungry, and his boyfriend takes the one next to him, hand touching Patrick's shoulder just for a minute.    
  
"Hungry?" Brendon asks with a little grin.   
  
"Starving," Patrick responds, feeling like it actually might be true.   
  
The younger boy laughs at his tone. Brendon looks around and makes some passing comments to the people filling in, but Patrick can't do much other than stare at the turkey as his mouth waters. Once everyone sits down, he is so so ready to dig in, be the first one to grab the plate of carved turkey, but then his mom is interrupting all of the chatter just to torture her son.   
  
"Let's take a minute before we start, everyone!" she says, warm and friendly before gesturing down towards Brendon and Patrick, "I asked if Brendon could say a few words of prayer before we eat."   
  
Yes, torture, that's exactly what she's going for. Because shortly after, he's got Brendon reciting another bible verse. He bites his lip so hard it threatens to break skin, trying not to react, trying not to be affected. His boyfriend has his hands clasped together and his head slightly bowed, words strong and clear once again like he's had the verse memorized for years. Patrick wonders when he had the time to find one and learn it all. He feels the younger boy's knee bump his, and then a foot on his, that clothed-contact still giving Trick a little zing. He knows that if Brendon could get away with it, his hand would be on Patrick's thigh right now. He knows just what he's doing. Asshole probably picked a long verse on purpose, just to try to make Patrick squirm.   
  
Finally, his verse ends with an "amen", and the warmth in Patrick starts to fade. Everyone's attention looks to be on Brendon or on food, so Trick at least has the comfort that no one seems to have noticed Patrick's shifting at the slightly tight feeling in his jeans. His brain is a step behind everyone else though, because it takes him a minute to realize that food is already being passed around. If the mashed potatoes are gone by the time they get around to him, Patrick is going to hold Brendon personally accountable.   
  
He can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed or fat or anything negative when he grabs more food than a human being needs. He also doesn't really care how fast and furiously he eats it. He's hungry and this food is amazing. He takes back everything bad he's ever said about thanksgiving. People around him chat and talk, but at first he's too focused on the serious job of eating to actually engage anyone. He goes for seconds and then catches Brendon's gaze. 

“Leave room for dessert!” he says with a smile, but it's not judgmental or mean, just one that says ‘seriously all of the desserts look to die for’.

“I always have room for pie,” he responds, with a smile, about to dig back in when Brendon catches his face with a hand. 

The boy swipes a bit of gravy off his face with his thumb and an almost affectionate look on his face. Patrick would feel like a pig and a slob, but somehow Brendon's smile makes that fade before it can form. With that, the boy is turning back to his conversation without another word. 

Patrick tries to hold a conversation with his family members, but he keeps getting stolen away by pieces of the conversations Brendon's been having. He gets caught up hearing his smooth and put-together lies, and also the things he says that Patrick can neither confirm nor deny. He was trying to talk about some tv show that he lost interest in last season, but then he caught a comment about Brendon's moms "students", and his interest was piqued.   
  
"Wait your mom's a teacher?" he asks, curious and realizing that he really doesn't know much about Brendon's life back in vegas.   
  
"Music teacher. She taught piano lessons at our house during the week, and on weekends she played for our church," Brendon responds with a smile, words sounding honest and true.   
  
It seems real and believable, and Patrick remembers earlier when the boy told him to stick close to the truth. Trick wonders if this story is the truth or just a well put-together lie. Brendon's really good with music, and it jogs Patrick's memory back to a conversation they had at some point a bit back about their majors.   
  
"Yeah, I remember you always talking about growing up with music," Patrick comments, returning Brendon's smile with one of his own, "you said that's a big reason you went into music therapy, right?"   
  
"Uh huh," Brendon nods, almost looking a little surprised and kinda happy that Patrick remembered that comment he made back then, before turning back to Trick's cousin, "it was super influential to me as a kid, and I feel like it had such a positive effect. I feel like music can really be used help people and that's what I wanna try to do."   
  
The conversation continues, and Patrick tries to go back to talking to other people, but then someone is asking Brendon about his religion, and he gets sucked back in. At first he just listens, doesn't say anything as Brendon explains that oh no he wasn't raised Catholic, he's a Mormon. Trick bites his tongue and stops eating for the first time since he first dug in, hanging on every word. Brendon backs up his story so well. He seems to know a lot about the church, and describes his childhood as one full of church and religion.   
  
Patrick is honestly really impressed by the amount of homework his boyfriend has done, but he can't help but wondering if the younger boy's parents really are Mormons. It would explain Brendon's baseline knowledge, but he might be going a little overboard with how much information he's been giving. He's not painting the picture of someone like Trick, who goes to church as part of his family, who went to religious education, but never really put much effort into it. He's painting the picture of a devout and passionate Mormon boy. Even if he did go to church as a kid, it's must have been awhile since the last time he so much as heard a verse. But Brendon's talking about youth group after school, bible study at nights, choir practice on the weekends, proselytizing downtown, going door to door in the suburbs, church without fail multiple times a week. He's going all out and Patrick is just waiting for a slip up.   
  
"So why didn't you go on your mission?"   
  
Patrick practically holds his breath at the question. It's a good one and one that he can’t think of an answer for. If Brendon is so devout, why didn’t he go on to do what is arguably one of the most important things for a mormon to do. But Patrick has some hope in his friend, maybe he can pull through.

“Well… It wasn't an easy decision,” Brendon starts, apparently mentally collecting his thoughts. 

“At some point, I guess around the same time I realized I was bi, I started realizing that life shouldn't just be about trying to get to heaven. There's so much love on earth and I don't think it's just a way to get to a better life. God gave us life so we could love him but also so that we could enjoy it.

“I thought about it a lot. I wanted to spread His word, but I also wanted to help people in a concrete way. It was a long conversation with myself but in the end, I decided to go to college for Music Therapy to learn something that I can use here on earth.

“I wanna work with kids, try to make the world a little brighter for them,” he explains, with passion and light in his face, like every word is the truest thing he's ever spoken, smiling so warm and happy when he finishes up, “music always leads me back to God anyway.”

Patrick just stares. Someone give this guy an Oscar. 


	10. Chapter 10

By the time everyone's just about finished eating, Patrick feels so full he could burst, but that doesn't stop him from being excited about dessert. When someone finally finally asks about it, and they get the go-ahead to start clearing dishes, Trick jumps up so fast his chair squeaks. He, his siblings, and Brendon all help clear the table, bringing everything to the kitchen in anticipation for more food. Patrick is on his toes practically the whole time, and at one point Brendon catches him for a kiss and tells him he's cute. Eventually they get everything cleaned off, and Trick helps grab a pie and brings it out.   
  
He sits himself back in his chair, sitting on his hands and waiting for his chance to stuff his face pt 2. Out comes plates and silverware, and the rest of the desserts, and Trick is immediately reaching for whatever's closest to him until he sees Brendon emerge from the kitchen again. He's carrying a tray that Patrick hadn't noticed before, and puts it down with everything else on the table.   
  
"I made cookies," he tells the table with a smile, presenting the plate of fairly large black and white colored cookies, before taking his seat next to his boyfriend again.   
  
Patrick's never seen them before, but he's reaching out to be the first one to grab one. They're soft and almost spongy, with a clean line down the middle to separate black and white frosting. He can't remember ever having them before, and he bites in eagerly. He can't help the appreciative moan that slips past his lips. Oh fuck these are good.   
  
"Holy smokes, these are amazing," he says, echoing his thoughts in a more family-friendly way.   
  
He takes another bite, right down the middle between what tastes like vanilla and chocolate frosting, and makes another happy noise, all other desserts forgotten about for now. He catches sight of Brendon watching him with a little color in his cheeks and his lip between his teeth. He seems happy that Trick likes them, almost as if he only really made them for him.   
  
"Yeah? They're called black and whites. They come from New York, and that's where my mom's from, so we always made them every year," he responds with a little shrug before cocking his head a little and saying, "I can always make you some sometime."   
  
"I might have to hold you to that," Patrick responds, but it probably comes out garbled with cookie.   
  
Brendon's smile is sweet and genuine, and he just nods in return. Even if he's just saying that, Patrick knows he can convince Brendon to actually get in the kitchen for him in exchange for a blow job, or maybe two, or ya know, a day of marathon sex. Cookies and sex with Brendon sounds kind of perfect actually. Well, he has one of those things right now, and he knows he'll get the other tonight. He shoves another bite in his mouth and tries to not let his mind wander to that dangerous part of his brain right now. Food and family now, Brendon later.   
  
\--   
  
Turns out "later" doesn't actually mean tonight, it means in about an hour when Patrick catches Brendon on his way back from the bathroom. He had seen his boyfriend head out of sight and followed him waiting outside the door for the chance and then grabbing the boy’s wrist and pulling him close. He finds Brendon's lips almost immediately, pressing them together insistently. Anyone could easily turn that corner right now, but he doesn't care, and when the younger boy steps closer to him and reaches for his face to deepen the kiss, Patrick knows his boyfriend doesn't either.

They stand there, making out and pressed together, until Brendon pulls off with a gasp for breath, breathing laboured. He presses their foreheads together but doesn't step back, hands on Trick’s shoulders so the older boy can't move away.

“Your family… We can't…” he pants, but his eyes are watching Patrick's lips and Trick can tell how clearly he doesn't want to stop.

He doesn't want to stop either, wants to make Brendon moan, make him whine, and do so quick and dirty before they get caught. Voyeurism isn't his thing but for some reason the danger of being caught causes a rush in his veins. He licks his lips and hears Brendon’s sharp little intake of breath, and he’s not backing down. He glances over his shoulder, and then he's turning back with determined eyes. 

“Bathroom,” is all he says before he's grabbing Brendon's wrist and dragging him to the empty room. 

As soon as Patrick’s got the lights on and the door shut behind them, he's got his hands on Brendon's hips, pushing him back against the bathroom counter. 

“Wait, you didn't lock it,” Brendon says, still breathless as he wraps his arms around the shorter boys neck. 

“I know,” he responds, waiting to see that flash of dark in Brendon’s eyes before he leans in to kiss him again. 

Brendon kisses back without hesitation, and Patrick closes the too-far distance between them, pressing their bodies together. He’s already hot and turned on, and he doesn't wanna wait any longer so he grinds his hips into the other boy’s, making them both moan in unison. It doesn't take much to get them hard, to get their bodies wanting to fuck. 

“Why do I feel like… Like you always want me… When it's… Fuck… When it's dangerous...” Brendon whispers in between pants and kisses.

“You like it too,” Patrick mumbles, pulling his hips back enough to get a hand between them, pressing it against Brendon's crotch. 

The younger boy gasps at that, breath shaky, and the warmth that floods Patrick's veins makes him so hungry. His fingers trace the shape of Brendon’s cock through his dress pants, the boy’s head falling back at the feeling. Part of Trick wants to get those pants open already so he can get his hand on him, but another part of him wants to keep it up like this, wants to get Brendon whiny and needy without even really touching him. Trick leans in and bites at the exposed skin of Brendon’s neck, a bit too hard for how dangerous this is. It’s worth it though, at least just for the little whimper he gets from the other boy, and those fingers in his hair. Patrick wants so much to bite and suck at Brendon’s skin right now. He wants to leave bright marks in his skin and mess him up, leave him a dirty and debauched mess. But it’s thanksgiving, and Brendon has an image to maintain. 

Patrick kisses and licks his way up Brendon’s neck, hand rubbing at his cock through his pants, and pulling desperate little noises from the eager boy under his touch. Trick trails his lips along Brendon’s jaw and then presses their lips together again in a rough and biting kiss that steals both of their breaths. 

“Please,” Brendon whines against Patrick’s lips, holding him close with his hands in Trick’s hair

“Please what?” Patrick asks, a smile on his lips as he bites Brendon’s, earning him a little gasp.

Brendon kisses him again, mouth hungry and hips twitching up into Patrick’s touch. Trick just rubs him, thumb running over the head of the boy’s cock through the fabric. The younger boy moans at that, so hot and bothered even without skin on skin contact yet.

“Please touch me,” Brendon responds, sounding so desperate and needy, making Patrick’s cock throb with want, “please please Patrick.”

“I am touching you,” Trick says simply, hand pressing a bit more firmly when he speaks.

Brendon makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, and Patrick can tell he probably realizes that he’s not getting what he wants. At least, not until Trick decides to give it to him. The idea of touch is appealing however, and his free hand tugs at the side of Brendon’s button-up, pulling it up from where it was tucked neatly into his dress pants. He hikes it up enough that he can slip his hand underneath, fingers touching the boy’s waist and making the younger boy shiver. It feels so nice, Brendon’s warm skin under his cool palm, the electric feeling of touching skin.

“Patrick,” Brendon breathes out, voice heavy and going straight to Trick’s cock.

Trick bites the boy’s lip again, hard and rough, rolling it between his teeth, and this time the moan he gets from Brendon is a bit too loud. 

“Shh,” he mumbles, licking and then kissing that swollen lip, “we’ll get caught.”

Brendon whines when Patrick sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and Patrick can feel the boy shaking slightly, hips making little jerky movements as Trick keeps his hand moving. 

“Ah, Trick… Gonna come,” Brendon breathes out, punctuated by a whine and an eager tug in Patrick’s hair. 

“Gonna come in these nice pants of yours? Get them all dirty?” Patrick asks, sounding just as affected as he feels.

Brendon just whimpers and nods, and Patrick can tell that he really is getting close. One of Brendon’s hands moves from Patrick’s hair to his shoulder, grip tight and fingers digging in as he holds on. Patrick kisses the corner of his mouth and then drags his lips over to the younger boy’s ear.

“Look at you, whining and needy just from this,” he mumbles, barely a whisper, lips right against Brendon’s ear, a firm press of his palm against Brendon’s crotch to add to his point, “you’re so eager to get off. And then we’d have to go face my family with a wet stain in your pants. God, you’re such a slut.”

Brendon mewls at that, coming apart at Patrick’s words, under Patrick’s touch. Trick knows just what to say, what to do to make Brendon fall apart. When Trick asks him, “you  _ are _ a slut, aren’t you?” all the response he gets back is a nod, but that’s not good enough for Patrick. He prods him, says “tell me,” in a voice that isn’t a request, it’s a command. There’s a hard swallow and then an uneven intake of breath from the younger boy as Trick licks along the shell of the boy’s ear.

“Y-yeah I...” Brendon starts, voice shaky and breathless, and even from this angle Trick can see the color in his cheeks when he mumbles, “I’m a slut.”

Patrick smirks, lips still against the younger boy’s ear. His teeth find Brendon’s earlobe and he gives it a little bite, loving every single little sound he can pull from Brendon’s lips. Trick’s fingers flex against Brendon’s waist and then tighten in a moderate grip, reminding them both that it’s there.

“Oh god Trick…” Brendon gasps, thighs shaking, and Patrick can read all of the signs of his body, “fuck please I need…I’m...”

“Don’t come, not yet,” Patrick breathes out, hot and wet against the other boy’s ear.

Brendon’s grip on Patrick’s shoulder tightens a little more and he nods, obviously so on edge, but always willing to follow direction. Trick shifts back again so he can press his lips to Brendon’s, kissing him deep and thorough. Brendon gives back as good as he gets, and then they’re getting lost in each other’s mouths. They make out until Brendon can’t focus, ending with him just open-mouthed panting against Patrick’s lips. He’s so close, but Trick can tell he’s trying so hard to hold on, to not fall over the edge, to do as he was told, to be a good boy. Finally, with a brief kiss to Brendon’s lips, Patrick pulls his hand off.

Brendon whines and sighs at the relief, sounding like he’s both glad and disappointed that Trick is gone. Patrick won’t let that disappointment last long though, because by the time Brendon’s opening his eyes again, Trick is already down on his knees. They make eye contact and Trick can see all the air leave the other boy’s lungs. They’ve been gone too long. People will start to wonder. Both of their lips are already swollen. They’re in danger of being heard. But God Patrick doesn’t care even a little bit, and Brendon doesn’t protest when Trick works his belt open.

Trick gets Brendon’s cock out in no time, taking it in his hand and giving it a few good strokes, making the younger boy gasp and give a little moan. Patrick’s eyes are on Brendon’s cock and he licks his lips absent-mindedly, barely realizing he’s doing it until he feels that tight grip in his hair again. He looks up again, and finds himself still being watched. This time, he holds that eye contact, not breaking it even when he goes down to lick the other boy’s cock from base to tip. Brendon whimpers and closes his eyes tight, as if he’s scared he’ll come too soon if he watches any longer.

“Come whenever you want,” Patrick breathes out, rubbing his lips against the head of the boy’s cock, smearing pre-come on his own lips, “and you can watch me if you want.”

Brendon’s eyes open and he bites his lips as he watches the boy on his knees. His eyes are intense and dark, so so dark, and it makes Patrick feel warm and cold at the same time. He looks so turned on and desperate, ready to fall apart at any moment, staring like the sight of Patrick right now, on his knees, Brendon’s cock in hand, lips shiny from precome, is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Trick leans in again, sucking the head of the boy’s dick into his mouth, tongue rubbing over the tip. He lets his eyes fall closed and focuses now, focuses on getting Brendon off and ignoring the throbbing hardness in his own jeans.

It doesn’t take long of Patrick working his hand and his mouth on Brendon for the boy’s breathing to change. Trick sucks and jerks him, not trying to stop the noises falling from his own mouth. They’re both spurring each other on with their voices and bodies. Brendon pulls at Patrick’s hair, and it only takes another couple of seconds for him to be moaning Patrick’s name and coming in the older boy’s mouth. Trick jerks Brendon off through his orgasm, swallowing down his come in an attempt to not make a mess. When he finally pulls off, Brendon’s nothing but a sweaty, breathless, shaky wreck. Fuck.

Patrick stands back up and presses their mouths together, his cock throbbing at the way Brendon kisses back so hungrily. The younger boy’s tongue chases every taste of his own come out of Patrick’s mouth, leaving them both gasping for breath when they finally break away. There’s a pause of them just breathing the same air, pressed close and trying to catch their breath, and then Brendon’s hands are reaching for Patrick’s pants. Trick grabs one of Brendon’s wrists to stop him, shaking his head no even though his whole body is begging to get off right now.

“We’ve been gone too long, they’ll start wondering,” Patrick tells him, and when Brendon makes a sad little noise and gives a little pout, Trick just laughs and gives him a quick peck, “pay me back later.”

Brendon’s lips try to chase Patrick’s when the older boy pulls away, but he’s gone too fast and too far to be caught. Trick gets Brendon back into his pants, and does them up again. He helps the boy tuck his button-up back into his pants and fixes his belt. When he pulls back, he reaches to straighten out Brendon’s collar and smoothes down as many wrinkles as he can. The only thing really still out of place is the swollen look of the boy’s lips and the flush not yet faded on his cheeks. Trick gives him a smile and then reaches up to run his fingers through the taller boy’s hair. He can excuse it as him trying to make it presentable, but honestly it just feels comfortable to do.

“There,” he says with a smile, taking another step back, “good as new.”

Brendon bites his lip and gives a small smile in return, and Patrick can’t resist stepping close again for another kiss. It’s not rough or bruising, it’s more gentle and appreciative, something sweet and deep. It’s probably how Patrick would kiss his boyfriend. He doesn’t even realize he had snaked an arm around Brendon’s waist until he breaks the kiss. The taller boy presses their foreheads together and smiles a content and happy smile. He reaches a hand up to brush against Patrick’s cheek, and then he’s leaning in for one last chaste kiss. 

“I’ll find a reason to have gone upstairs,” Brendon mumbles against his boyfriend’s lips, “wait a bit before you leave here.”

Patrick nods and then pulls back, a blush on his cheeks when he gives a little shrug, shifting almost uncomfortably where he stands. 

“I need a few minutes to regroup anyway,” he responds, knowing his hard on is still so obvious to the both of them.

Brendon gives a little laugh and then closes the distance once more to give Patrick a little kiss on the cheek.

“Later,” he promises, and with one more smile, one more wink, and a little smack to Patrick’s ass, he’s heading out.

Trick stares at the door after it closes behind his friend and then lets out a long sigh. He runs his fingers through his hair and tries to get his breathing back under control, but then his mouth is spreading into a grin and a laugh is bubbling up in his throat. He lets himself laugh at nothing, feeling warm and happy and giddy. When he catches his breath again, he looks back at the door and then shakes his head with a smile. Everything is going so perfectly.


	11. Chapter 11

After dinner is always sports, sports, and more sports. Patrick is actually grateful for the distraction this year, because it draws attention away from him and Brendon. Trick hopes no one notices just how long they were gone, or how swollen his lips look. He heads to the kitchen to get something to drink, hoping that the cold and having something to hide his mouth will help, and when he sees Brendon in the living room, decides to grab him a glass too. When he brings it to the boy, his boyfriend gives a smile and a thanks, and then leans in for a peck on the cheek.    
  
Patrick ends up in the living room with the bulk of his family, gathered 'round the tv watching the football game that Trick really couldn't care less about. It doesn't really make any sense to him and even if it did, he still doubts he would see the appeal. He pulls out his phone at some point, shooting off a text to Pete before he realizes that his friend is probably just as glued to the television as everyone else. He ends up texting Brendon too, because at least the younger guy doesn't care about sports either. He doesn't get a response, and when Trick glances over to where his boyfriend was previously standing, he finds the space empty. Wherever Brendon is, it's gotta be better than right here, so Trick decides to get up and go find him.   
  
He wanders through the dining room and then into the kitchen where there's a few people hanging around chatting. Patrick spots Brendon instantly, over by the oven, chatting with one of Trick's uncles. It only takes a moment for Patrick to realize something is off. The way his friend is standing makes him look small, hands in his pockets and shoulders somewhat hunched. The expression on his face is that of a kid being scolded, and he looks like he wants to sink into the floor and be forgotten. Trick's making a beeline to the two of them immediately.   
  
"-cause really if you actually listen to what God's message is, he makes it very clear that homosexuality is wrong. I don't really know how you can justify being gay if you believe in God," Trick's uncle lectures, and Patrick stops just within earshot, listening to the conversation and waiting to see how it'll go, "if you love him so much, then why are you giving up your chance at heaven just so you can have some fun on Earth."   
  
Brendon's been criticized and lectured about the dangers of homosexuality more times than Patrick can probably count. He's laughed at church protests, and run his dirty mouth at people with signs on street corners. Patrick's been grabbed by him for a kiss in front of people just so Brendon can laugh at their horrified faces. Arguing a fight for lgbt people is probably one of the boy's favorite past times. He's got a stock of ammunition to use in defense and attack, and Trick's seen him shut down retaliation before it's even off someone's lips. So this is something strange to see, Brendon backing down from a fight, timid and quiet. Still, Trick keeps his distance, tries to let Brendon fight this battle on his own.   
  
"Well... I believe that Earth is our home and what we experience here is just as-," Brendon responds, voice small and hesitant until he gets cut off.   
  
"It's just ridiculous that you know you're going to hell for this, and you continue to think it’s alright. It's surprising your religious parents are even okay with it," the guy continues, and Patrick can see Brendon visibly flinch at the mention of his parents, "if my son ever told me he was gay, I would just tell him that no son of mine would be giving into sin. I would never be okay with anyone under my roof going against God like that and betraying his and my trust."   
  
Brendon's not even looking at the man, eyes averted and looking so lost, shutting down. This feels wrong. It doesn't feel like Brendon just acting like he's bothered by what he guy is saying in the name of keeping up appearances, it feels like he's actually being hurt with those words. Patrick's never seen this look in his friend and it makes his blood boil. He moves towards them, hands in fists and face probably looking a bit too angry and harsh. Good. He takes a step in the space between them, keeping Brendon behind him like he needs to protect him.   
  
"Hey," Patrick says, knowing his voice sounds like he's about to throw a punch, "back off. Let him live how he wants. No one asked you for a lecture."   
  
His uncle takes a little step back, hands up in a mock shield.   
  
"I'm just being honest with him, that's just my opinion on his situation," the man responds, in that tone that says 'it's his fault if he got offended'.   
  
"Well your opinion is stupid, so you can take it elsewhere," Patrick bites back, half a foot shorter than the man, but still feeling just as tall, just as tough.   
  
Trick's uncle clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes, ready to argue with the hotheaded kid getting up in his face. Patrick's ready for that argument, ready to get up and fight. It wouldn't be the first time he's thrown a punch at a family event, but it might be the first time that the fucker truly deserves it. He feels Brendon's hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and feels the boy step closer to him. It's a comfort, having that contact between each other, something to bring him down a notch and calm him down. He shouldn't be trying to pick a fight, he knows that, but it's hard not to when all he can think about is how small Brendon looked a few moments ago.   
  
"You better watch your mouth, Rick. You shouldn't talk to your family that way," the man warns, seemingly ignoring the fact that the asshole is the one who started it, "it might get you in trouble next time."   
  
With that, the man turns and walks away from them, seemingly wanting to distance himself from the 20 year old 5'5" ball of anger issues. Trick almost goes to bark something after him, not ready to let this go just yet. He doesn't realize how tight his fists are until he feels a hand on one of them. Brendon unknots his fingers and slips his hand into Patrick's. The tension slowly fades from his shoulders at the touch.   
  
"Babe, it's okay," Brendon mumbles, interlocking their fingers and giving Trick's hand a squeeze.    
  
Patrick turns to his boyfriend, anger fading into concern when they make eye contact. He's waiting for a wink, for a whispered comment, anything to signal that this is normal old sinner Brendon, playing a part for Patrick's sake. Instead, what he gets is a small smile and tired eyes. He looks downcast, somewhat hurt, and still smaller than the Brendon Trick knows. It's still that look Patrick's never seen before.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asks, knowing his worry shows as his eyes roam Brendon's face.   
  
Brendon gives a bigger smile, one that's more believable, and nods his head.   
  
"Some people are just fucking dicks," he answers with a shrug, the curse so in-character, making Trick laugh a little.   
  
Brendon grins in response to Patrick's laugh. The boy then leans in to press their lips together briefly, and when he pulls back his smile is softer.   
  
"Thanks," he says simply, like he means it, "for standing up for me."   
  
"Thanks for not letting me punch him in his ugly face," Patrick responds, and the laugh he gets from Brendon is real and happy.   
  
Patrick remembers the way Brendon kept his gaze down, body turned in on itself, and he kinda wishes he had let the guy have it anyway. Next time, if it happens again, not even Brendon will be able to keep him in check.

 

\---

 

Things go back to normal pretty quickly, the only sign of the scuffle being the way Trick keeps an eye on his uncle, ready to get up in his face again and not back down if he decides to come after Brendon again. Its no secret that Patrick has a bit of a temper, and his whole family is aware of it. When he was younger he used to fight with his cousins and siblings all the time, as kids do. But as he got older, that streak never really ran out. It's not that he goes out of his way to pick fights, it's just that when someone irritates him, he doesn't have a good grip on himself. He went through a program for anger management in middle school, and yeah he still remembers all of those bullshit techniques to channel your angry energy and face your problems rationally and blah blah blah, but he doesn't really give a shit anymore. Especially when his roommate, best friend, and partner in crime makes it his life's mission to try to piss Patrick off as frequently and as strongly as possible. When you can break someone's phone, choke them against a wall, and bust their nose all in one weekend and still remain close as can be, your hot headedness stops to be such a problem. (Especially when you have Brendon Urie dragging you out into an alley to call you hot and then go down on you after a rough half-drunken fight at a venue.)   
  
He's not gonna get in a fist fight at a family gathering (again) though, so he tries not to get stressed. He finds soon that it's hard to be angry or irritated when Brendon's there rubbing his back or bumping his shoulder or shooting him smiles. Brendon somehow makes a lot of things a lot easier to handle. Like football. Suddenly it’s not so boring when they're sitting next to each other on the floor, watching the game like either of them knows what's going on. A cousin comes out with a few beers in hand and Patrick catches the look Brendon gives her. It makes Trick wonder when the last time Brendon went this long sober was.    
  
They all spend the rest of the day talking, watching tv, just hanging out and having fun. The game ends, but Trick can't tell you which game won or even who his family was rooting for. Brendon and Patrick both decline the offer to go out and shoot hoops with a group afterwards in favor of staying in the warmth, relaxing, and not playing sports. Not really their thing. Conversation never really dies, keeping both of them engaged. Brendon must've made a pretty strong image of a good polite religious boy, because when he joins in conversations about hardcore bands or rappers or certain tv shows, people seemed to be surprised (Patrick almost wanted to slap him on the back of the head and insist that Rick and Morty isn't something that mormon kids are likely watching). Luckily the boy bites his tongue when any talk of alcohol comes up. That one might raise some questions.   
  
They get asked about each other a few times, just about them going to school together, when did they meet, how did they meet, are they the same major, basic questions and Brendon mostly takes over answering. He's good at lying and good at making them seem like a believable couple. The more Trick listens though, the more he realizes that a lot of what Brendon says isn't a lie. He tells the truth a lot, and takes pieces of their friendship to fit things together. He's more stretching the truth than making things up, fluffing up their actual feelings and interactions to make them sound less like friends and fuck buddies and more like boyfriends and kids in love. If Patrick steps away from himself for a moment, he finds himself falling into believing Brendon's little lies.   
  
Trick really hasn't seen his grams that much today other than greeting her earlier in the morning, but he and Brendon end up sitting by her on the couch, talking easily. They don't really have to be so pretend with her; she's always been supportive of Patrick in every way she can, and she knows that kids will be kids. They talk about this and that, and show a bit of a realer side to their relationship than they had to anyone else. She's lived in Illinois her whole life, and has never really forgotten what it was like to be young in Chicago. Things have changed a lot, but her old city hasn't completely disappeared. There's a venue that Trick and Brendon had gone to a few weeks ago that she remembers visiting as a teenager, there's a new club that the two of them know well in the building that used to house her favorite dance club, there's still so much theater which, as always, piques Brendon's attention, and not to mention the fact that one of Brendon's friends is a brother at a frat that Grams knew "quite well" back in the day. Brendon loves her instantly, all smiles and loud laughs, comfortable and so amused when she starts talking about her days living in the North Side.    
  
Minus that one little hiccup earlier, it's been a good day filled with food and family and Brendon, but Patrick can't help feeling glad when the first group of relatives starts hugging their goodbyes. It'll be nice to be able to relax, just stop with the constant interaction, eat some more dessert and take a load off for the rest of the day. People start clearing out, and of course he has to help clean up, but before he knows it, he's back on the couch with another cookie, giving a heavy sigh. Brendon follows suit not long after, having made sure everything was in order for Patrick's mom before taking his spot next to his boyfriend on the couch. Trick sees the younger boy eyeing his cookie with a little smile, and he gladly offers him a piece. They share a smile and Patrick feels happier than he has in awhile.


	12. Chapter 12

Lounging on the couch, relaxed from all the comfort food, tummy full and happy Patrick’s pretty much forgotten that he and his boyfriend are sharing a room tonight until his dad goes to pull out the blow-up for his younger cousins. Brendon’s the first one to offer assistance, and when he pops up and goes to help, Trick remembers that they’re gonna be headed off to bed together soon. It makes him smile, knowing that he’ll have Brendon in his bed, all to himself tonight. Even if they don’t have sex, it’ll still be nice to have a warm body against his all night. But Patrick does intend to have sex. Lots of it. Once he’s got the upcoming night on his mind, it’s hard to sit back and relax again. All he really wants to do now is go upstairs and kiss Brendon until their vision goes a little blurry. It feels like a short eternity before people start dispersing, before it’s finally an appropriate time for his friend to be standing up to stretch and say he’s turning in for the night. Patrick follows not long after. 

When he gets up to his room, he finds Brendon crouched over his suitcase, looking through it. Trick gives a 'hey' and Brendon turns to give a smile and an easy 'hey' back. Trick shuts the door behind him and goes over to sit on the bed, watching his friend shuffle through his clothes before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and standing up. Something in that suitcase catches Patrick's eye, and he leans over to grab the half-hidden book out of it. He blinks at the bible in his hand, and then he laughs. He laughs and holds back the part of him that wants to be turned on. 

  
"You brought a bible?" he asks, amusement clear in his voice before he looks over at his friend.   
  
His laugh fades at the sight of a shirtless Brendon, and he doesn't even try to stop his wandering eyes. The younger boy has a great body, one that Trick thinks about far too often. He normally doesn't get people like Brendon in his bed and when he does, it's normally not a repeating occurrence. Brendon's hot by pretty much anyones standards, and he's Patrick's type, the kind that Trick wants to shove down on his back and spend an hour just touching him before they even fuck. And of course the kind that he wants to spend well over an hour fucking.   
  
"Yeah, I did," Brendon responds, seemingly unaware at of Patrick's stare until he turns far enough to give a little wink, "fits, doesn't it?"   
  
"Yeah," is all Patrick can say in response, fingers feeling their way around the book even though his eyes don't stray.   
  
Brendon keeps stripping, taking off his dress pants, followed by his underwear, and really Patrick doesn't have a choice except to watch. He chews his bottom lip, watching all that skin come into view, at a good angle to get a shot of the boy’s ass. He’s got a great one, one of the best Patrick’s ever fucked, an apple bottom that's perfect for a bottom like Brendon. Trick has a strange urge to go over there and bite it, and then maybe push Brendon on the bed to eat it for a bit. He really just wants to touch right now. But then, too soon, the boy is pulling those sweatpants up and over it, and Patrick has to fight back a disappointed noise. The boy remains shirtless though, and Trick really appreciates that. Still, the sight seems a little off.

“It's still weird to see you without your tattoos,” he comments, and yeah he's been getting more familiar with it, but he just doesn't look like Brendon without them. 

“Yeah?” Brendon responds with a little smirk, looking his arms up and down as he turns them, Patrick’s eyes watching the muscles move, “you like it, don't you?”

Trick looks back up to Brendon’s face to find himself being watched. There's a tease in his friend’s tone but his eyes are mixed with something else. Maybe judging for a reaction. 

“I like your tattoos,” Patrick responds with a shrug and then a smile, “they're you.”

“They are,” Brendon agrees slowly, moving closer to Patrick to kneel on the bed next to him, “but you think it’s hot when I’m not inked.”

“I think you’re hot always,” Trick mumbles in response, feeling not in control of his hands when they reach out to touch skin. 

As soon as Patrick's fingers touch Brendon’s bare skin, he knows he's given himself away. He doesn't really care though; clean Brendon is new and interesting and too innocent not to be defiled. His eyes follow his hands, trailing up the other boy’s arms halfway, before sliding back down again, loving the feeling of touch, of skin on skin. This time, his hands go all the way up to Brendon’s shoulders, only pausing a moment before sliding in a little more, and then slowly down the boy’s chest. His eyelids are a bit heavy with want as he touches Brendon, hands moving over muscles and warm skin to get more of that buzz under his fingertips, to keep touching and touching. His hands move down to the boy’s stomach and then back up again and to his waist, and when Patrick finally lifts his gaze again, Brendon’s lips are parted, his breath a little heavier, and his eyes are dark, letting Patrick's hands roam wherever they want. 

They hold that eye contact for a moment, intense and full of want, and then Patrick’s leaning in for a kiss. It starts out soft but they don't waste time deepening it, picking up a slow pace of lazy making out. Trick’s hands stay on Brendon’s body, and he feels a hand on his face, tipping his head back for a better angle, for a deeper kiss. At some point they end up laying on the bed, Brendon on top of Trick as they focus on nothing but each other. Patrick's hands trace Brendon’s spine, moving along the boy’s back slowly, loving the chance to just keep touching. His hands follow Brendon’s muscles, painting over every inch of skin he can reach like it’s his job to map out every shape and pattern. 

Patrick couldn't tell you how long they stayed like that, just touching and kissing like they had all the time in the world, but by the time they break apart, their lips are swollen and wet, and their visions swim a bit. They pant into each other's mouths, trying to catch their breaths with the air the other breathes, not wanting to pull away even for a second. The room is quiet save for the sound of them, and it's a silence that makes the atmosphere feel a bit more intimate. Patrick’s hands move up Brendon’s back again, a light drag of skin until he hits the boy’s shoulder blades and they stop. He can't remember the last time he did something like this with someone, and it's nice to just have this moment. 

“I love when you touch me,” Brendon whispers, voice heavy and honest, “I love your hands.”

“I love touching you,” Patrick breathes out, words against Brendon lips before he kisses him again. 

“And I love your fingers,” Brendon adds once they break apart again, still close enough that their noses touch, close enough that Patrick can feel Brendon’s lips move when he speaks, “I want them inside of me.”

There's a sharp little intake of breath on Patrick's part, and he moves a hand from Brendon’s back to the boy’s face, pushing him back enough to get a look at him. Those eyes are dark and serious, and Patrick can tell he means now, right now. 

“Fuck,” is all Patrick can say before he's leaning up for a hungry and biting kiss.

It's just a short kiss before Patrick’s hand finds Brendon’s shoulder, and he's flipping them. He presses the boy down against his bed and then he's situating himself between his legs. His hands trail down Brendon’s stomach and then go to his sweatpants, pulling them off swiftly with the help of the other boy. Having Brendon spread out naked for him is a perfect sight, and Patrick gets distracted just staring. His eyes roam until he notices goosebumps on Brendon’s thighs. He reaches out to touch and gets a shiver from the boy. 

“You cold?” Patrick asks, feeling pretty damn warm in his clothes, sweat already sticking the fabric to him at places. 

“Uh huh,” Brendon responds before cocking his head and giving a little smirk, “guess you’ll have to warm me up.”

“Guess so,” Patrick agrees, giving a smile to match Brendon's. 

He swings off the bed, Brendon points him to where the condoms and lube he brought are, and he's grabbing them quickly. It really is a good thing that Brendon picked some up; he actually doesn't have any here. If it were anyone else, the fact that the condoms are XL would probably be a joke. But the thing is, that's actually what fits him, and Brendon is aware of that, and very willing to be the one to go out to the store to pick some up. Patrick just feels like such a douche when he has to look a cashier in the face when paying for box of XL condoms. So it's a really good thing Brendon grabbed some because Patrick was not about to go out to a convenience store in his  _ hometown  _ and go through the checkout line with those in his hand. It'd be just his luck to run into half his high school class.

When Patrick turns back to Brendon, supplies in hand, he's greeted with a disappointed face and a pout. 

“What?” he asks with a frown, but Brendon’s pout just intensifies and he makes a whiny little noise. 

“You're still dressed,” he says, as if that's all the answer Patrick needs. 

“Yeah…?” Trick responds, eyebrow raised in confusion as he makes his way back over to the bed.

“Not fair,” Brendon huffs, eyeing Patrick’s shirt like it’s the root of all his problems right now as Patrick crawls back on the bed with him, before his gaze raises back up to meet Patrick's, “I wanna see you.”

Patrick doesn’t really get what there is to see. He's short fat and sweaty, not exactly the type that has people wanting him to strip. But Brendon has always seemed genuinely physically into him, a fact that has always struck him as odd. In the beginning, he figured Brendon wanted to fuck him because he was a good lay. The younger boy is attractive enough to get people way hotter than Trick (people who are actually hot) into his bed, so he always chalked their sleeping together up as being because they just work well together under the sheets. But the more they fucked, the more into him Brendon seemed. He was never going to argue or question it though, why threaten a good thing? So he’s just gone along with it, lucky that Brendon keeps coming back again and again. 

Brendon sits up and when Trick tosses the lube and condoms on the bed, the younger boy reaches for his shirt, tugging him closer. Patrick’s on his knees between Brendon’s legs, and the boy is giving him a little smile.

“You're so hot, all these layers are a god damn sin,” Brendon says, looking up through his lashes and pulling at the fabric of Trick’s shirt almost as if to emphasize his point. 

Patrick leans in for a quick kiss and then he's pulling away and sitting back so he can take his shirt off, seeing hunger in the other boy’s eyes. As soon as he's shirtless, Brendon is on him, kissing him with fervor as his hands reach out for Trick. The older boy feels them on his sides, and as he kisses back, they roam, touching his stomach, his chest, his back, just touching touching touching. He can't get enough, so eager like it was somehow unfair that Patrick got to explore Brendon’s body when the younger boy didn't get to do the same. Kissing and touching turns to making out and pulling each other closer, which ends with Brendon on his back again and Patrick taking the lead to kiss him good and well. 

Brendon makes a pained little whine, and after another moment or two, pulls back and pushes Patrick away a bit. He reaches for Trick’s belt and the older guy realizes that his jeans are probably too rough for the setting. It doesn't take long for Brendon to get them pushed down, and then Trick is getting them the rest of the way off and throwing them to the side. He goes to move in for another kiss but he’s stopped by Brendon’s hand on his shoulder, keeping him back. The younger boy is sitting up again, looking at him, eyes roaming while Trick watches him. It only takes a moment for Patrick to start to feel uncomfortable, heat coming up to his cheeks at being checked out. He's never really had the greatest self esteem, and when his freshman 15 turned into a sophomore 30, it fell even further. But still, Brendon’s looking at him with those eyes that say he wants him. 

Next time he leans in for a kiss, Brendon lets him, gladly opening his mouth and letting Patrick take the lead once again. They kiss for a moment, and then Trick’s pulling back and pushing the other boy down onto his back again. He stays sitting on his heels, between Brendon’s legs. His hands run up and then down the boy’s thighs, and then move to Brendon’s knees. He moves them until they’re bent, and then he spreads his legs open.

“Yes,” Brendon breathes out, excitement in his voice as his head falls back to the bed and he grins.

Patrick smiles, always excited when Brendon is. He slides a hand down between Brendon’s legs, finding his hole and rubbing at it with a finger. The younger boy makes an eager little noise and shifts his hips, trying to give Patrick a better angle. It’s so hot, Brendon’s body already asking to be fucked. He presses and rubs, not pushing in and instead just listening to the other boy’s breath pick up and become heavier. He finally reaches over for the lube but the other boy grabs it and hands it to him before he can get there. They share a look and a smile, and then Patrick’s opening it and breaking the seal. He squeezes a bit onto his fingers, and his body aches in anticipation, so ready to make Brendon moan. 

He moves his hand back down again, lubed fingers pressing once again against Brendon’s hole. This time, Brendon’s breathing stops, holding it while Patrick teases him just a moment more. Then, finally finally, Trick presses a finger in, slow but sinking it in fully without pause. The younger boy makes a pleased little noise, and Patrick doesn't pause before he's sliding it back almost all the way out, and then back in again. One more movement, and then he's slipping a second finger in with the first. Brendon gives a little gasp, and then a soft moan when Patrick starts working the two digits in and out of him. Trick looks up, and the sight he sees is enough to make his cock twitch. 

Brendon's got his eyes closed and his lips are wet and parted, head turned sideways against the covers. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is rough. Trick can see the way he feels every movement of his fingers in and out on his face. He twists them inside of Brendon and the boy hums and arches his back a bit, wanting more. And Patrick gives it to him, a little harder, a little faster, with more purpose. It doesn't take long for Brendon to start rocking his hips back for more, begging with his body. When Patrick adds a third finger, the boy’s hips twitch but Trick doesn’t hesitate to keep going. He knows what Brendon likes, how the boy needs to be touched, he knows just the right pace and amount of stretch. And he knows how to find that angle that has Brendon tipping his head back and moaning, hands fisted in the sheets. 

Patrick gets a rush of excitement at that reaction, fingers pressing back against that spot and rubbing until Brendon whimpers, moving his hips and biting his lip. Trick starts moving his fingers in and out again, angling to hit that spot on nearly every thrust, and Brendon gets more turned on, his body moves more, he grips the sheets tighter, his breathing gets rougher, and his noises get louder. But that’s where the problem lies; they can't afford to be noisy. There's too many ears tonight. 

“Hey,” he whispers, but Brendon's not paying attention, too focused on the fingers inside of him, so Trick adds, “Brendon.”

The younger boy opens his eyes at that, looking down at Trick half-lidded and dark. It's so hot and Patrick can't help wanting to say fuck it to being quiet and then make Brendon scream. It's so appealing, but they can't. 

“Quiet,” he says, voice breathy when he nods in the general direction of his parent’s room. 

Brendon's eyes idly follow the path, and when he looks back at Trick, he nods. Still, that doesn't mean that Patrick’s gonna go easy on him. He picks back up his pace of fucking the boy with his fingers, with more purpose this time. Apparently the intent behind his actions isn't lost on Brendon, because he’s biting back more moans and his hips are working to meet Patrick’s movements.

Trick doesn't stop once he knows Brendon’s ready, loving the chance to just finger the boy and watch the pleasure on his face. He doesn't slow, doesn't stop, until Brendon's finally making eye contact and biting his lip, bedroom eyes making Trick’s heart stop. 

“You gonna rail me, or what?” Brendon asks with a little smirk, turning Patrick’s insides to jelly for a moment. 

Instead of answering, Trick just gives him a hungry look and then leans in for a kiss. It's rough and biting and bruising, all heat and hunger, so different from their kisses earlier. Patrick keeps his fingers moving, all the while fucking the boy under him with them. When they finally break apart for air, Trick sits back again and pulls his fingers out, ignoring Brendon’s little whine and reaching for the box of condoms. Before long, Patrick's back situated between Brendon’s spread legs again, prepped and ready to go. With a hand on the other boy's hip, he guides his cock in place, making Brendon squirm in anticipation.

“You ready?” Trick asks, voice thick and heavy with want, rubbing against his hole. 

Brendon nods and then smiles from where he's propped up on his elbows. The excitement in his eyes is so clear and Trick always loves fucking him because of it. 

“Fuck me,” Brendon responds with that smile, always such an eager bottom. 

Trick leans back in to press their lips together, waiting until Brendon kisses back before he pushes his hips forward. The gasp he gets against his lips is so satisfying, but then he's losing his own breath as he thrusts in fully. They both moan, panting into each other's mouths, and Trick keeps his hips still to give the other boy time to adjust. He feels so good, so hot and tight, and so fucking good. It doesn't take long for Brendon to kiss him again, rocking his hips for more. 

“Please,” he breathes out into Trick’s mouth, and that's all the go-ahead Patrick needs. 

He pulls his hips back and then thrusts forward again, getting more shaky breaths from Brendon, and then on his next thrust in, he snaps his hips. Brendon cries out, mouth falling open when Trick keeps that up, setting a rough pace for them almost immediately. The younger boy loves it, moaning and gasping, hips moving to meet Patrick’s rhythm, one hand on the older boy’s shoulder to hold on. Trick feels fingers in his hair not long after, Brendon pulling him in for a biting kiss that he knows is just gonna bruise their lips. 

Brendon’s being too loud again, uninhibited while he gets fucked, seeming to not care about anything other than Trick and his cock. He’s never been a quiet guy and he's never given a fuck. He’ll scream and beg and moan in Patrick’s room for two hours straight and then smile and wave at Pee and co on his way to get water from the kitchen in nothing but boxers and one of Trick's shirts. It must be drilled in his mind to not give a fuck about anything other than getting fucked when he's in bed. He’s definitely quieter than normal, but still in dangerous territory. On a particularly hard thrust, the noise he makes is too loud and Patrick needs to put a handle on this before they’re heard. He reaches up and clamps a hand over Brendon’s mouth, making eye contact with the boy below him while he silences him. He doesn't stop his hips though, just keeps thrusting, watching Brendon’s eyes react with every movement. 

“Can you stay quiet?” he asks, voice a whisper and oh god does he love that little whine he gets on that thrust.

Brendon’s eyes are dark, not fighting he hand on his mouth or irritated by it. If anything it seems to turn him on even more.

“Or do I need to gag that pretty mouth of yours?” he mumbles, punctuating it with an extra hard snap of his hips. 

Patrick’s aware that Brendon can't actually respond with his mouth covered, but the boy does a fine job of begging with just his eyes. They plead, say that he’ll be quiet, he’ll be a good boy. Trick would be lying if he said the idea of having Brendon gagged for him wasn't hot, but tonight's not the night for that. He takes his hand off of Brendon’s mouth and the boy gasps a little, sucking in air now that he can breathe.

Brendon’s quieter now, but his eyes are more intense, hand falling from Patrick’s shoulder down to the bed. Whenever Trick gets a bit more dominant, Brendon gets a bit more submissive. They work. And Brendon really does look so submissive right now, voice quiet and eyes dark, one hand loose in Trick’s hair, other hand next to him on the blankets, eyes wide, lips parted, body taking everything that's being given to him. Patrick can't help wanting to dominate him, take control and give him just what he wants, and give it to him hard. One of Trick’s hands reaches to grab Brendon's wrist, pinning it where it is on the bed, next to the boy’s head. Brendon gasps, body shifting in response to the weight. Patrick pushes his wrist a bit higher, and then is pausing his hips and shifting so he can grab the boy’s free wrist away from his hair, and pin it down to the bed too. Trick can feel the experimental push back against his grip before the boy admits he’s trapped and his body sinks back down. Patrick can just have his way with him now, and the hungered look must show on his face because Brendon is giving a shiver under his gaze. 

Trick leans in for a kiss, hips still against Brendon’s, cock buried deep inside the boy. He pauses just short of a kiss, and knows he's being an asshole to see how the boy strains up to reach for his kiss, only to be held down. Brendon flops back down, a disappointed look on his face and eyes not meeting Patrick’s gaze. The older boy finally closes that distance and presses their lips together, deep and needy when Brendon kisses back. Once they pull away, Patrick just rubs his lips back and forth against Brendon’s, not wanting to stop that electric feeling. 

“You okay?” he whispers, just wanting to be sure now that Brendon doesn't exactly have any leverage between them right now. 

“Yeah,” Brendon breathes back in response, seemingly distracted by staring at Patrick’s lips.

The younger boy licks his own lips, eyes still on Trick’s before he looks up to make eye contact, and his breath hitches at finding himself being watched, at the intensity of it. He swallows hard and nods up at Patrick. 

“Fu-fuck me,” he stumbles out, so ready for more, “please Patrick... I need it, I need it hard.”

Trick really can't say no to a face like that, and without saying anything else, he pulls his hips back, nearly pulling all the way out, and then thrusts in hard. Brendon throws his head back at the feeling, a little “ah!” falling from his lips. Patrick falls into a new pace different than last time, harder and faster, giving a definition to the word “pounding”. Brendon does well with staying quiet, until Trick gets that perfect angle and he cries out with feeling. Instead of gagging him or covering his mouth, Patrick just kisses him open-mouthed and deep, muffling any sounds that might wanna come out a bit too loudly. Brendon doesn't stop his whining but Trick swallows down his noises, kissing him harder every time he moans or whimpers. The younger boy tries to keep up with Patrick's hips but he’s too distracted to focus and ends up just letting the other boy control it.

When Brendon breaks their kiss and whimpers Patrick’s name, the older guy knows what that means, what he needs. He shifts his weight onto one arm so he can let go of one of Brendon’s wrists and reach between them for the boy’s cock. Brendon gasps and his body arches when Trick’s fingers wrap around him. Patrick starts jerking him off in time with his thrusts, making them just a bit harder, fucking Brendon hard enough that Trick hopes he’ll feel this whenever he moves tomorrow. 

Patrick’s close, body so hot and on edge, but Brendon’s even closer. He loves when he can Brendon off first, loves that just his cock and his hips drive the younger boy crazy. And he loves the way Brendon feels around him when he comes. So Patrick has every intention on making sure the boy below him comes before he does. He jerks him off with purpose, putting all of his own pleasure on hold for the focus of driving Brendon over the edge. The older boy’s breathing changes and his whines and whimpers turn more desperate.

“God, you're so hot Brendon,” he whispers, eyes watching the boy’s face. 

That seems to do it, the comment and Brendon’s name off of Patrick’s lips, and his body is shaking and he’s coming apart. Trick jerks him through his orgasm, hips keeping up that steady rhythm as Brendon comes hard on himself. It only takes a through more thrusts, takes Brendon tightening around him, takes that look on the boy's face, and then Patrick’s following him. He bites his lip and moans, burying his face in Brendon’s shoulder while he keeps moving, chasing that feeling, not stopping, even when Brendon whimpers under him. When his hips do finally still, there's bursts of white behind his eyelids and his breathing his lost to him, the feeling of his orgasm so overwhelming in the moment. 

They just lay there for a minute, Patrick on top of Brendon, trying to come back to themselves, and then Trick’s pulling back, taking his weight off the smaller boy. He pulls out gently, one hand on Brendon's hip, and then is getting the condom off, tossing it on the floor, wiping his hand and Brendon’s stomach with his discarded shirt, and then flopping back onto the bed with an “oof”.

Patrick lays on his back, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the stars to fade from his vision. His body feels warm and tingly, sated and happy, and it feels so good just to lay back and come down. His heart stops racing and he can finally catch his breath, the pleasured feeling in his veins fading off into sleepiness. He glances to his side at the boy next to him on the bed. Brendon's on his back too, only his eyes are closed and his breathing is calm enough that Patrick almost thinks he's asleep. He shifts onto his side and moves closer to Brendon, the younger boy keeping his eyes closed until Trick's got an arm around him. He blinks them open and greets Trick with a tired smile. Patrick smiles back and presses closer, wanting to feel the boy’s body against his a little more. He sighs and rests his head on Brendon’s shoulder, feeling so happy when his boyfriend wraps an arm around him too. 

They just stay like that, listening to each other breathe, enjoying the warmth of one another. Patrick's hand finds Brendon’s arm so he can rub it gently, a comfort to them both. He's sleepy, starting to drift off, but then he feels those little bumps from earlier. 

“Cold again?” he asks, still warm even though it's cooling down around them. 

“Yeah…” Brendon mumbles back, “cold in here.”

Patrick smiles and leans up to kiss his cheek. 

“I think I have a sweater nearby,” he says, starting to move to sit up, “I can grab it for you.”

He's stopped by a hand on his far wrist and a tightening of that arm around him. 

“‘M okay,” Brendon responds, looking down at Trick with a soft and sleepy expression, “stay here. Warm.” 

Patrick's heart skips a little at that but he's not sure why. He settles back down, head on Brendon’s chest and presses a little closer. This way, he can hear the boy’s heartbeat. His socks managed to stay on through this all, and he presses his socked feet against the other boy’s legs. Brendon stays laying on his back, and Patrick stays on his side, up against Brendon. It's comfortable and happy, and before long Trick’s getting caught by sleep, the sound of Brendon’s heart steady and sure, pulling him away. He's just drifted off when a little shake from the other boy wakes him again. It takes him a second, but then he realizes that he's a bit chilly so Brendon’s got to be freezing. 

“Here,” he mumbles, this time moving away from Brendon without being stopped. 

He maneuvers them off the top of blankets and under them and he sheets instead. Brendon seems to have been almost asleep too because he yawns and mostly just follows Patrick’s lead. It's still a little chilly but Brendon gets the blankets up to their chin, and pulls Trick close again, their body heat warming up the pocket they made quickly. Patrick’s already feeling a little warm, but Brendon seems comfortable so he can deal with it. The shifting and the shuffling seems to have woken them both up a little more than Patrick intended. 

Brendon’s on his side now too, both of them sharing a pillow when the younger boy leans in to bump their foreheads together. Patrick closes the small distance between them for a kiss, gentle and chaste. It doesn't last long, but it doesn't have to. When they break apart, Brendon is smiling.

“I had fun today,” the younger boy whispers into the silence, making Patrick laugh a little. 

“Yeah? With my exciting family?” he responds with a grin. 

He’s expecting a laugh in response, but instead he gets a more thoughtful expression and a shrug from Brendon. 

“It’s nice to see you guys all together. I miss mine,” he responds, and his smile looks almost sad now. 

“You okay?” Patrick asks, concern on his features as he runs his fingers through the other boy’s hair. 

“Just a bit homesick I guess,” Brendon answers in a mumble. 

There's something Patrick can't read in his voice but then again it could just be that they're both pretty tired. He's always been lucky to be so close to his family. They’re far enough away that he doesn't see them all constantly, but close enough that he gets to go back home when it matters. Brendon’s across the country from his parents, likely hasn't seen them since school started. Patrick gives him a soft smile, a gentle happiness in his eyes. 

“I'm glad you're here, B,” he whispers, and the smile he gets in response is brighter. 

“I'm glad I'm here too,” Brendon agrees, biting his lip for a second before adding, “this is probably the best place I coulda been today. Beats anywhere else I could have been.” 

Patrick leans in for a kiss and scooches a little closer, relaxing back against the bed again. 

“Even when we make you watch football?” he asks, getting a laugh from his friend. 

“Even then,” Brendon responds, a grin in his voice. 

They share a happy look, and then fall into a tired and comfortable silence. They're both so sleepy, and pressed together, sharing warmth and touch, it doesn't take long for them to drift off to sleep. 


	13. Chapter 13

Patrick wakes to the sound of movement and a half-contained excited little noise. He opts to ignore it though, rolling over and reaching out for the warm body he had in his arms not too long ago. He finds warm sheets, a warm bed, but no Brendon. It makes him grumble in frustration, and when he cracks an eye open, he sees the other boy halfway across the room. Brendon’s leaning over the window sill, eyes focused out the window so closely that Trick thinks his nose might be pressed to the glass. 

“What're y’doin?” he asks, voice slurring and tired. 

Brendon looks over in surprise, and his face is excited, his eyes bright. It wakes Patrick up a little more. 

“It's snowing,” the younger boy responds, voice happy. 

“Yeah?” Patrick questions, brain a little slow and lazy. 

Brendon responds with a simple “yeah” like he's said all he needs to say, not paying attention again as he gazes out the window. He's smiling to himself, happy to just be able to see outside. Trick watches him quietly, taking a look at him, at his  messy bedhead and glasses. The boy is semi-clothed now, wearing a pair of boxers and a sweater which, after a moment, Patrick identifies as one of his own. He looks so cute and Trick wants him over here so he can kiss him. 

Then, it clicks in his head. Brendon’s a Vegas guy. He's probably not used to snow. Trick's sure they younger boy has seen it before on vacation with his family or something, but it's likely not a common sight for the boy. 

“Y’don’t see much snow, huh?” Trick asks, voice still sounding as groggy as he feels.

“Not really,” Brendon responds with a shake of his head, “only some years when we’d go somewhere. We almost never get snow back home.”

Brendon goes back to quietly watching the snow, and Patrick wonders if he would stand there all day if he could, or if he would get bored. They get so much snow in Chicago that it stopped being a big deal a long time ago. Trick watches Brendon, and he wonders if he would watch him there all day if he could, or if he would get bored. He guesses Brendon is like snow to him. Something interesting and new. Something worth watching. Well, at least that's what his sleepy half-functioning brain tells him right now.   
  
It's at the point where he has to make a decision on whether he wants to wake himself up, or go back to sleep. He grumbles and turns his head into the pillow. No competition there. Grumble grumble.   
  
"You okay?" Brendon asks with a chuckle.   
  
"Tired," is his response, muffled by the pillow.   
  
"Go back to sleep babe, it's still early," the boy tells him, voice gentle.   
  
"Cold," he says back, knowing he could very well pull the blankets higher or grab a sweatshirt, but he would rather be grumpy.   
  
He hears another little laugh across the room, and then movement. He ignores it, eyes closed, trying to get back to sleep, but then there's a dip in the bed as Brendon climbs on. Trick doesn't respond, just makes a noise and keeps his eyes shut and his face in his pillow. Brendon shifts, and Patrick can feel him move over him, and then flop down behind him. It's only another short moment before he feels arms wrap around him, a body pressed against his back. Brendon is solid and warm, legs tangled, and bodies touching. The younger boy presses a soft kiss to Patrick's neck.   
  
"Better?" Brendon asks in a mumble, wrapped around Trick in such a nice comfort.   
  
Trick smiles, feeling his heart skip a little. His hand reaches for one of Brendon's, linking their fingers together from behind.    
  
"Better," he agrees, sounding tired but happy.   
  
He relaxes, and it only takes a minute or two before he's falling back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, Brendon's still in bed with him. He's on his phone and he's not wrapped as tightly, but he's still there. It's a nice start to the morning. They're slow getting up and getting ready. Or at least Patrick is. Brendon doesn't seem to have trouble finding his feet and energy, and the only time he really ever gets off track is when Trick distracts him with kisses.   
  
When Brendon shucks off his (Patrick's) sweater, Trick's caught off guard by the sight of his tattoos, bright and clear in the morning light. It's been awhile since he's seen them. Brendon must've caught him staring, because he rubs one arm awkwardly and gives a shrug.   
  
"Haven't gotten a chance to cover them up again," he responds, shifting his weight to his other foot awkwardly.    
  
"I can help," Patrick offers, and Brendon accepts with a smile.   
  
Trick doesn't know if he's ever paid such close attention to Brendon's tattoos as he does now, covering them up with makeup. He really does like them. He kinda missed the boat with getting one for himself, and he's such a snob and he's in and out of interests so fast that he'd probably grow tired of it in no time. He loves the look of them though, and he's always had a thing for inked guys. Pete's tattoos are darker and he was always so focused on building his sleeves, getting some of his tattoos just to get a tattoo (like that stupid straightedge one that Patrick told him he'd regret). Brendon's are bright and colorful, and each one of them feels like it has a reason behind it. Patrick's never asked, but thinking about it now, they all seem so purposeful.   
  
He's almost done when he laughs at one of them, which gets him a questioning look from his friend.   
  
"Sorry, I'm just thinking about how well this one woulda gone over with my parents," he explains with a grin, pointing to one on the side of Brendon's arm.   
  
The younger boy turns his arm to look and then laughs too when he sees the little tattoo of the bible on fire. He returns Patrick's grin with one of his own.   
  
"Maybe I'm just burning with passion for The Lord," he jokes, fake seriousness in his voice.   
  
"Yeah right," Patrick responds with a snort and a smile.   
  
Trick covers that one up too, and once he's finished everything, Brendon's getting dressed again. He throws on a crew neck and Patrick stops himself from staring when he realizes that it's another youth group looking one. It’s got something about “God’s formula for a Pure Life”, and it looks worn down a little bit, like he's had it for awhile. He looks cute in it. It makes Patrick think maybe he actually got these genuinely, maybe he really did go to his church's youth group. Trick makes a point not to think too much about it.   
  
They get downstairs eventually, Brendon exchanging morning pleasantries that Patrick ignores in favor of getting his breakfast Thanksgiving leftovers. The morning is light and happy and easy, family that's glad to be able to see each other. At some point after breakfast (more like lunch for everyone else), Kevin grabs his brother with a quick, "Rick can I talk to you?". Trick still hangs onto his tea when the older boy pulls him aside.   
  
"What's up?" he asks, leaning against the dining room table, while his brother stands kinda uncomfortably in front of him.   
  
"Brendon... seems to really like you, huh?" Kevin asks, tone suggesting that this conversation is maybe heading somewhere a little more serious.   
  
"Yeah I guess," Patrick responds hesitantly, wondering for a minute if maybe he's just doing a poor job at playing the role of a boyfriend, and Brendon's overshadowing him too much.   
  
"I'm just saying because uh... I mean he seems like a really nice guy," the older guy says, like he's trying to decide how to say something, or maybe just say it nicely, "and you guys seem pretty happy together."   
  
"I mean, we are," Patrick says, waiting for his brother to just spit it out already.   
  
"I guess I just wanted to know um," Kevin starts before looking at his younger brother with a sincere look on his face, "well, does he treat you right?"   
  
That wasn't exactly the kind of question Patrick was expecting right now.    
  
"Huh?" is all he can say in return.   
  
"He's nice and all, but I can't really know if it's genuine or not. Some people come across as good people, when they're actually shitty behind closed doors," Kevin explains, voice serious.   
  
"Yeah," Trick responds, brain taking a minute to catch up, "he treats me well, Kev. He makes me happy, and he's better than a lot of other guys I've dated."   
  
It's not a lie that Brendon is good to him, it's not a lie that Brendon treats him better than other guys he's been with. Trick's gone on dates with his fair share of assholes, pricks, and douchebags. He's been ghosted and used as much as the next guy. Brendon has always been nothing but open with him. He's not the type to blow Trick off or stand him up, and he's never pushy or pressuring with anything they do. He's a good dude, but Patrick knows there's a difference between hooking up and being boyfriends. Brendon treats him as a friend when they're on campus, and here he's just playing a part. Trick doesn't know how the boy would be as an actual significant other, but it's easy to pretend he would act the same. With all the kisses and touches and sweet words, it's too easy to pretend.   
  


"That's good," Kevin says with a nod, and then he gives a smile, "you tell me if he does anything to make you unhappy, and I'll come kick his ass, okay?"   
  
Patrick laughs at that, and that's when it hits him what exactly this is right now. Kevin's giving him the big brother talk. The "he breaks your heart and I'll break his nose" talk. The one he'll probably give Megan and her first real boyfriend whenever he comes around. Trick never really thought he would be here, but he appreciates it. Kevin's a good brother.   
  
"You'll be the first one I call," Patrick responds with a smile, earning him one in return before they rejoin the group.

The next time Trick notices Brendon, the younger boy is sitting on their couch, leaning his arms on the back of the it, looking out the window and just watching the snow fall. It's not coming down heavy, just a light drift, but still enough to stick. Patrick goes over and sits next to him on the couch, wondering what it is that he sees in the snow that captures him enough to keep staring. Trick doesn't realize he's been noticed until the younger boy speaks to him.   
  
"Have you ever gone sledding?" he asks, voice calm and inquisitive while his eyes don't move from the window, resting his cheek on his arm.   
  
"Yeah, all the time when we were younger, " he answers with a smile clear in his voice, "whenever we would have a snow day at school we couldn't wait to get our snow pants on and run down to the park."   
  
Everything was so simple back then. All he wanted to do was play in the snow, and then come back home and drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. Whenever he comes back home for the holidays, he always gets that nostalgic feeling from those days. Trick turns to watch the snow fall too. He's made more snowmen and snow forts than he can remember out on that lawn.   
  
"It was one of the best parts of winter," he continues, laughing a little, "we used to go to bed with our pajamas inside out and spoons under our pillows because it was supposed to make a snow day happen."   
  
Brendon laughs at that, and when Patrick turns his attention back on him, the younger boy is looking at him.   
  
"Really?" Brendon asks sounding happy and carefree, "did it work?"   
  
"Sometimes," Patrick responds, and they share a smile before Brendon's eyes drift back to the snow.   
  
"I always wanted to go sledding," he says after a moment of easy silence, "but whenever we saw snow, we never got the chance to."   
  
Patrick gives a little, "hm" and then after a beat of silence, leans over to bump his shoulder against his boyfriend.   
  
"First decent snowfall we get this year, I'll take you sledding," Patrick offers, warmth in his voice.   
  
Brendon turns back again, and his smile is soft and oh so adoring. He looks a little bit in love. If that's how he feels about snow, then there's no way Trick's not making this happen.   
  
"Will you wear your pajamas inside out with me when we get back?" the boy asks with a wink.   
  
"Of course," Patrick responds with a grin, "how else would we make it snow?"


	14. Chapter 14

Every year on the Friday after Thanksgiving, it's time to put up Christmas decorations and lights in the Stump household. Patrick still thinks it's too early to get into the Christmas spirit, but it's a tradition and it's something that he's come to look forward too. Even though the holiday music drives him crazy in November, he loves the cozy December feeling he gets to feel early when he's back home.   
  
He's in a good mood when his dad comes over and asks for help with the lights. He'd much rather help his mom carry stuff up from the basement and decorate inside, but if his dad needs help he'll be there. Besides, it's not like Grams can go outside and help. Brendon seems happy to help out, but after he offers, he seems to remember that he doesn't actually have warm winter clothes with him. Trick's not sure he has warm enough clothes in general, even back on campus. Patrick offers him his coat, but luckily there's one of his old ones still in their closet, along with a basket of gloves, hats, and scarves for Brendon to grab from. They get him bundled up soon, but Trick still worries he'll be cold.    
  
Brendon stands by the door while Trick pulls his own gloves on, and he laughs a little when he looks at his boyfriend, hat pulled low and scarf pulled high so all Patrick can really see are his eyes, nose, and cheeks. He can't resist leaning in to kiss the boy's nose.    
  
They help out with decorations for an hour or so, stringing up lights, and hanging up big ornaments. Every time Patrick sees Brendon distracted, kicking snow with his shoes, staring at the sky, or shaking tree branches to see it fall, Trick gets an overwhelming need to kiss him. To just go over there, and pull him close, to kiss him hard or sweet, to brush snow off his hat and press their foreheads together. They're getting cold and hungry, and Patrick wonders how cold Brendon is right now, if he needs someone to hold his hands and warm them up for him.   
  
They take a short break for some food and warmth, and Brendon looks pretty iced from being outside so long. They offer to let him stay in and help with the indoor stuff, but he insists on going back out to help. They go back to helping, but after being warmed up, it doesn't take long for the crew to start to get a chill. Even Patrick's feeling it down his spine. When he looks over to his boyfriend again, the boy seems frozen but happy, adjusting some lights on a bush by the sidewalk. Trick smiles as he watches him, and then crouches down to gather some of the small bits of snow on the ground. He shapes it into something that will hold and then stands back up to throw it at his friend.   
  
The snowball hits Brendon's arm and breaks apart against it, startling the younger boy. He looks back in confusion, but when he catches the little smirk on Patrick's face, he's grinning and seems to have gotten the idea. Trick bends down to grab more snow, but then he's getting hit in return, snow and ice contacting his shoulder and sliding up to his neck. It's freezing and icy but he doesn't care because Brendon's laughing, and Patrick's throwing another snowball back at him. From there it's a flurry of throwing snow and ice, and even just kicking it at each other when they're close enough. There's not much snow, but they scrape up the powder until they hit grass, making do with what little they have. Trick ditches his gloves, and Brendon loses his hat at some point, and they're both starting to feel numb, but they just keep up their snow fight, laughing and yelling at each other like kids. Patrick can't remember the last time he had this much fun.    
  
Trick's running for a fresh area of snow when he gets hit in the upper back, snow getting under his collar and sliding down his back. He makes an anguished noise, shaking his shoulders while he runs, to dislodge it, and loses his footing, tripping down onto the snowy lawn with an "oof". Brendon yells a "sorry!" over to him, and Trick’s disoriented for a second, but then he's laughing, not moving to get up and just laughing loudly. He hears footsteps behind him, and then after another moment, his boyfriend is laying down on the lawn next to him. Brendon's grinning, and the two of them laugh together until they're breathless. They share a smile, and Patrick's heart feels light, fluttering in his chest.   
  
Patrick wonders when Brendon started making his heart skip, when he started feeling so nervous and giddy over the boy, when his chest and tummy started warming up from being close, when Brendon's smiles started making him weak. He feels happy and full of a pleasant feeling he doesn't care to try to name.   
  
He's sweaty and snowy, cheeks bright red against his pale skin, and hair sticking to his face. He probably looks a mess. Brendon also looks a mess, but a cute one. His hair is mussed and his nose is as red as Patrick's cheeks. His eyes are bright and he's got a little smile on his lips. Trick leans over for a kiss, sweet and gentle before bumping their noses together in a little eskimo kiss.    
  
When they pull back, Patrick doesn't have a chance to gather himself before Brendon's picking up a mini fistful of powdery snow and tossing it lightly in Trick's face. The older boy sputters, and Brendon's covering his face in hiding before Patrick can even reach for more snow. His hands are so cold, and his fingers are stiff and numb when he touches the ground. He's now starting to realize that taking his gloves off was maybe not the best idea. There's ice water on his neck and it's creeping down his shirt, and right when he's taking a full inventory on how cold he is, he realizes that Brendon must be far more cold than him and notices his shivering. Not just little shivering either, the boy is shaking. He pulls his hat off, and tugs it onto Brendon's head instead.    
  
Patrick pushes himself up onto his knees and sits back, the snow previously on him already having turned to water and seeped into his coat. He needs to warm up. He needs dry clothes, hot chocolate, and a fire. And also a Brendon.   
  
"Well, I'm frozen," he says simply.   
  
"Y-yeah. M-me too," Brendon stutters, and Patrick can't tell if it's for effect, or if he really is that cold.   
  
Trick stands up and reaches a down to his friend, helping the boy up with a numb hand. He yells to his dad that they're gonna go warm up, and the man calls back that that's fine. When Patrick looks over at him, his dad's on a ladder smiling and Patrick can see Kevin handing up lights to him with his own smile.   
  
When they get inside, the first thing they do is shuck off their wet clothes, shaking them out on the towel his mom had set down for their dirty shoes. It's warm in the house, and it feels better once his coat and scarf are off. His mom comes over and grabs the stuff from them, something that Patrick's grateful for, because it means the two of them can head right upstairs to get changed, maybe get a warm shower too. He vocalizes that thought when they get to his bedroom, and Brendon gives a little groan, agreeing that it sounds perfect right now. Trick tells him to go ahead and take the one in the bathroom a few doors down, and the boy grabs his clothes eagerly.    
  
Once Brendon's gone, Trick gathers his own clothing, opting for layers cause he knows he'll get warm pretty fast. He hears the water turn on in the bathroom, and he's about to head down the hall to the other upstairs one when he hesitates, an idea popping into his head. He turns it over a moment, and then peeks his head out of his bedroom door to make sure everyone's still downstairs. Downstairs and out of sight. He chews his lip, and then grabs his clothes, deciding to go for it. He creeps down the hall to the bathroom, and checks over his shoulder before reaching for the knob. The door's locked, but they live in an old house with old locks. If you pull the door in and wiggle the knob a bit, it comes free, and Trick knows how to do it silently, how to sneak it and shut it behind him without making a ruckus.

When Patrick locks the door behind himself, it shuts with a click, and the shower curtain shifts, Brendon’s head popping out of the side with confusion at the noise. Patrick’s already heading towards him, throwing his clothes on top of Brendon’s on the counter when they make eye contact, and he strips off his shirt when Brendon gives a smile. He's out of his pants in no time and then he's pulling back the shower curtain and climbing in with his boyfriend. 

The younger boy starts to say “hey”, but Patrick cuts him off with a kiss, hands going to his hips immediately. Brendon’s arms go around the shorter boy’s neck as he kisses back, and Trick pushes him against the cold tile of the wall, pressing their bodies together. Brendon gasps at the contact, and pulls back away from Patrick’s lips. 

“You know we’re being dangerous again, right?” Brendon asks, and when Trick blinks the water out of his eyes, he notices the curious look in the boy's eyes. 

“Best part,” Patrick responds with a smirk, just barely catching the twitch of a frown on Brendon’s lips before he kisses him. 

Brendon kisses back, but it's missing the hunger and want that Patrick has. Trick presses closer, bodies against each other, and the younger boy moans, but his kisses don't seem into it, so Trick backpedals a bit. He puts some space between them, but not too much, and breaks their kiss. 

“You okay?” he asks with concern, eyes focused on Brendon. 

The younger boy chews his lip, obviously thinking over something. His eyes look conflicted and unsure, but also a level of unhappy. It's something beyond just ‘I’m not in the mood’. 

“Yeah,” he responds simply, the universal sign for ‘no, but I don't wanna talk about it’.

Patrick obviously isn't convinced, and he holds eye contact with Brendon, almost ready to press, until the boy breaks it, looking off to the side. Trick fights back a sigh, and steps back, hands sliding off of Brendon's hips. The younger boy doesn't let him go far though, looking back at Trick and not moving his arms from around the older guy’s neck. He looks worried but Patrick just smiles. 

“Pass me the soap, and I’ll scrub your back?” he offers with a smile, willing to let this go for now if that's what Brendon wants. 

Brendon smiles in return, eye lightening up as he lets go of Patrick to find the soap for him. Trick thinks that maybe it actually was just that he’s not in the mood, because he seems better after that. Trick would be lying if he said he didn't sneak in here to have some fun with Brendon, maybe fuck him in the shower, but he finds himself enjoying the non-sexual touches between them as they get clean. However it does make him a little uncomfortable seeing how much Brendon’s been looking at him. Being naked is so exposing, and when they're in bed Trick can rush to sex to get the focus off himself, but when sex is out of the picture, when Brendon can just focus on him, it makes him nervous. Still, Brendon makes him feel so wanted. He always does, and increasingly so on this trip. Brendon takes his time helping Trick wash up and lets his hands wander a bit too much, but Patrick lets him. 

They both get cleaned up, and right before Trick asks to turn the water off, Brendon’s stepping close again and kissing him. It’s deep, but also slow and lazy. Patrick kisses back happily, giving a pleased hum into his boyfriend's mouth. Part of him wants to finish what they almost started earlier, but part of him is content with this. Plus, he can tell that Brendon wants kisses, not sex right now. Trick thinks that it's unlike him to prefer this over that, but then he takes it back. Brendon’s always loved kissing, and they’ve always done so much of it. Before during after, Brendon always wants to kiss. 

Eventually they do have to pull away and get out. Trick hops out first to grab the towel Brendon left on the counter and grab another one in the closet, letting the younger and colder boy stand under the warm water for another minute. When Brendon gets out too, Patrick wraps him in the towel and rubs it over the boy’s hair just to see it messed up and cute. The little smile that Brendon gives him in response is enough to cause butterflies to flutter about in his stomach. 

They get dressed again, and Brendon makes sure his long sleeves are pulled down to keep his visible tattoos out of sight for now. Trick exits the bathroom first, eyes peeled on the lookout for anyone who might see him sneaking around. Brendon gives it another minute or two and then he's heading out too, following Trick to his bedroom. 

The chill is gone from Patrick's bones, and he feels relaxed and loose after his shower. It feels so good to stretch and then fall onto his bed, almost ready to take a nap. Brendon laughs, and shuffles through his stuff, looking for his cover-up again. Trick closes his eyes and smiles, warm and cozy in his lazy winter clothes. After a few minutes, Brendon climbs on the bed with him too, both of them laying on their backs and sinking into the blankets. He finds himself accidentally fading off to sleep before he hears his boyfriend's voice.   
  
"Do you think you have any hot chocolate?" the boy asks, voice almost dreamy.   
  
Trick keeps his eyes closed but he smiles, mind following Brendon's thoughts. He feels hungry now, and a big mug of it sounds perfect   
  
"Probably," he responds, "mm and we might have some vanilla ice cream too."   
  
"Ice cream? Isn't it a bit too cold to be eating ice cream?" Brendon questions with a laugh.   
  
Trick blinks his eyes open to stop from falling back to sleep and looks over at Brendon, smile never fading.   
  
"I meant ice cream for the hot chocolate," Patrick explains, excited as his stomach runs away with his thoughts.   
  
"You eat ice cream with your hot chocolate?" Brendon asks, looking back at Trick with an eyebrow raised.    
  
"No it's..." Trick starts before cutting off for a second, "wait have you never had a hot chocolate float?"   
  
Brendon shakes his head, and Trick's eyebrows shoot up before he's sitting up in bed. His smile turns into a grin when he looks down at the younger boy.   
  
"Alright, I'm making you one," he says definitively, scootching towards the edge of the bed and finding his feet.    
  
Brendon gives a happy laugh and sits up too. Patrick reaches out a hand to help the younger boy up, and then he's pulling him out the door, still holding Brendon's hand. It feels warm and secure in his, and he finds himself not wanting to let go.    
  
Patrick calls to his mom that they're going to make hot chocolate on his way to the kitchen, not letting go until he has to look through the freezer in hope that they still have ice cream. The universe must be on his side because not only do they have ice cream, but they also have whipped cream, and when Trick searches the pantry a little, he finds marshmallows. He's going all out. Brendon leans against the counter and watches him with a fond smile. He moves around the kitchen, grabbing hot chocolate mix, milk, and a few mugs. He'll make some normal hot chocolate for everyone, but he and Brendon are the only ones who get the special stuff.   
  
Trick glances over at Brendon and they share a soft smile. He can't help imagining Brendon wearing his glasses and that too-big sweater of Patrick's he wore this morning, sitting on the counter and swinging his feet while he watches Trick work. He knows he would go over and stand between his legs, go up on his toes so he could kiss Brendon. And he would kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until Brendon laughed at him and told him not to let the ice cream melt. Patrick would say he didn't care, and Brendon would kiss him some more. He wouldn't let it melt though, and when they finally had their drinks, he would get whipped cream on his nose and Brendon would lick it off and Patrick would laugh. 

He comes back to the present at the sound of the microwave buzzing at him. He didn't realize how lost in his thoughts he had gotten. He pulls the mugs for him and Brendon out of the microwave and sets them down next to the other ones he had made. The younger boy is still watching him and Trick feels almost embarrassed, as if he could read his thoughts. Brendon offers to bring the mugs out to the rest of the family in the house and outside while Trick fixes up theirs, and then disappears to let Patrick work. He reaches for the marshmallows first, then the ice cream, and finally the whipped cream to top it all off, finishing just before Brendon gets back. Trick picks both of their mugs up, and then walks past his boyfriend out of the kitchen. 

“Couch,” he says simply as he passes, nodding his head towards the family room. 

He places Brendon’s down on the coffee table and takes a seat with his own in his hand. He pulls his legs up on the couch with him, curling up, and smiles at the younger boy when he picks up the the other mug and sits close. 

“Cheers,” Trick says with a smile, holding up his mug so Brendon can clink them together with a laugh. 

Brendon lifts his to his lips immediately, but Patrick holds off in favor of watching his friend. The moan he gets from the younger boy makes him happy. Trick knew he would love it. When Brendon comes up for air, he's got chocolate, whipped cream, and ice cream all smeared on his face. It makes Patrick laugh and he leans in to kiss his messy face. 

“I'm making a mess,” Brendon says with a smile once they break away.

“You're supposed to,” Trick confirms with a grin, and then finally takes a sip of his own. 

They laugh and smile, having their drinks and laughing some more when Patrick spills his on his shirt. It’s fun and kind of perfect, making him feel warm from head to toe. His chest feels tingly and warm too, and he thinks maybe it's from more than just the hot chocolate. 


	15. Chapter 15

Dinner is Thanksgiving leftovers and Patrick couldn't be happier. He fills his plate as high as he did yesterday, and eats and talks and laughs with his family. They make plans to go ice skating tomorrow, and Patrick scrunches his nose when Kevin suggests they head over early. They decide to head over late morning, and then do some shopping downtown before they come back so Trick and Brendon have time to pack and get to the train before it gets too late.   
  
Eventually, everyone turns in for the night, and Patrick and Brendon retreat upstairs to Trick's bedroom yet again. It's been a good day and Patrick's happy to get to have Brendon all to himself at the end of it. As always it's not hard to find something to talk about. Brendon mentions a friend, Trick brings up a band, they start up a conversation. The younger boy decides that it's probably a good idea to get started on packing now so they don't have to worry about as much when they need to leave, but Trick isn't really that interested. He says he'll do it tomorrow, but they both know that tomorrow night will just be a rush to shove everything in a heap into his bag. Brendon says he'll take those words back. Patrick says he knows. They share a smile.   
  
The younger boy works on getting his stuff organized and sorted, and Patrick just sits on his bed, not really wanting to move a muscle right now. At first, this whole trick they've been playing on his family had been frustrating and stressful, but he's come to enjoy the time he's gotten to spend with his friend. They never see each other this much on campus, especially not one on one. They spend a lot of time with friends, but not a lot of time alone together. It's a nice change, just being around each other instead of partying, or fucking, or drinking.   
  
That gives Patrick an idea and he quiets down, listening for movement or noise in the house. He tries to tell if anyone is out and about out there, not really hearing Brendon's words or questions. He smiles and gets up off his bed finally, looking over at his friend crouching over his suitcase with the frown and curious expression.   
  
"Be right back," he says simply, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Brendon's head before he goes to leave the room.    
  
He peeks out of his bedroom door, making sure the coast is clear before he heads downstairs. He makes sure to be aware of the other people in the house and stays on alert as he gets to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of beer from the fridge along with a bottle opener, and then sneaks back to his room quickly, luckily not being found out. He smiles and holds the bottles up triumphantly for his friend to see.   
  
"Brought you something," he says simply, handing Brendon one of the bottles along with the opener.    
  
"Hell yeah," Brendon responds with a big grin, taking the offered gift eagerly, "you're the best."   
  
"You know it," Patrick replies with a little shrug before climbing back on his bed.    
  
Brendon cracks his bottle open, and then hands Trick the opener, joining him on the bed. Patrick pops his open too, and situates himself with his back against the headboard. Brendon sits to his side and tips his bottle towards Patrick for the older boy to tap them together gently, taking care to be soft and not to get caught now. They both sit with their legs out in front of them, Brendon's stretching longer than Patrick's. They drink and the younger boy bumps their knees together lightly. Trick gives him a little smile, and Brendon gives him a wink back. Patrick feels pretty genuinely happy right now.   
  
"I had fun today," he says honestly, thinking back to their snowball fight and their mini hot chocolate date with a smile.   
  
"I did too," Brendon agrees, voice sounding as content as Patrick feels.    
  
Neither of them has anything else to add to that, and there's nothing more that needs to be said. So they sit in a comfortable quiet for a moment or two before Brendon gives a little laugh.   
  
"So... Ice skating then?" he asks with a grin.   
  
"Uh huh. There's an outdoor rink on the other side of town," Trick answers before giving him a sideways glance, "are you actually an all-star who's gonna come sweep me off my feet tomorrow?"   
  
Brendon laughs at that, but then he's giving a small shrug and a sheepish smile.   
  
"I uh, actually might need a few pointers," he responds, eyes happy when they make contact with Trick's.   
  
"I might be able to help with that," Trick says, "it's kind of a tradition for us to go at some point every year."   
  
Brendon gives a little "hm", and looks away mildly. Something shifts a little, and he doesn't feel as bright. Trick watches him as he stares across the room, not seeming to see anything. He seems tired when he lifts his bottle to his lips again and takes a drink. It's not a sip, it's more like a gulp.   
  
"I miss doing stuff like this with my family," he says, voice quiet and seeming out of place as it breaks the silence, "I mean, we never really went ice skating or had snowball fights, but I just miss doing stuff with them."   
  
Trick chews his lip, as he looks at his friend, who's still got that far-away and tired look on him.   
  
"Well you'll go back over Christmas break won't you?" Patrick asks, voice trying to be reassuring and positive, "that's not too far, you'll see them then, right?"   
  
His words have the opposite effect than he wanted them to. Brendon's gaze drops to his lap, all traces of a past smile gone right now. His fingers pick at the label on his beer bottle, and Trick just wants to kiss him until he looks happy again.   
  
"I um..." he mumbles, sounding so small, "no, I'm not actually."   
  
Patrick reaches out to take one of Brendon's hands, linking their fingers together gently. He doesn't know what's wrong, but he wants to make it alright. Brendon deserves the world, not to be sitting here sounding so lonely and small.   
  
"Why not?" Trick asks, knowing that there's something more to the story.   
  
Brendon doesn't answer at first, just keeps his eyes on the bottle in his free hand, and Trick can't resist taking it from him, the younger boy letting him have it without hesitation. He puts both of their drinks on his side table, knowing that Brendon really doesn't need to be hiding himself in alcohol right now. It's not enough to get him drunk, but it's still more than he needs right now. The younger boy breathes out a sigh and then gives Patrick a sad little smile.   
  
"I haven't talked to my mom in almost a year, and that was only because she called for Christmas and my birthday," Brendon explains, pausing a moment before continuing, "I haven't seen her or my dad since a bit after I turned 17."   
  
Trick's heart aches for his friend, at the tone of his voice that says this is so far from what he wants and needs. The way Brendon's been talking about his family, and especially his mom, makes it clear he loves them. Sure it could all be an act, but it always seems so real. Patrick gives his hand a squeeze, and after a small hesitation, gets one in return. Brendon's gaze wanders again, finding another spot across the room to fix his eyes on. Trick waits for his friend to continue, but Brendon’s quiet after that. He can't tell if the boy doesn't want to talk, or just doesn't know what to say.   
  
"What happened?" Patrick asks, voice barely a whisper.   
  
His free hand comes over to cover over Brendon's, holding it between both of his. Brendon gives another heavy exhale of breath, and then he seems to be gathering his words for a moment.   
  
"I told them I liked guys and it didn't go over well, but I knew it wouldn't. My dad was angry, but my mom just wanted to get me help. She told me that she knew people in the church whose children had the same problem, and that there were programs to get me better," Brendon gives a humorless little laugh, and then continues, "I told her I didn't want help and that there was nothing wrong with me."   
  
Brendon pauses, and his breaths seem shaky. Patrick wants to just pull him into his arms and kiss him and make him happy again, but he knows its not that simple. He also knows that Brendon needs to talk right now, and he needs someone to listen. It's only another moment before he speaks again.   
  
"It just spiraled into a fight. They were mad at me for arguing, and then once God came up, it all kinda fell apart," he explains, "they kept talking about God's plan and me living in sin and how I was disappointing Him, and I just..."   
  
He bites his lip, eyes narrowed at the memory he has in his mind. There's almost a form of regret on his features, like he wishes he could take back what he said somehow just to make it right.   
  
"I was dumb, I shoulda kept my mouth shut, but I told them I didn't believe in God," he says, followed by a sigh, "they were so shocked they didn't have an immediate response, so I kept running my mouth. I said I didn't wanna be a Mormon, I didn't want to be part of the church, and I sure as hell didn't wanna go on my mission."   
  
Brendon runs his fingers through his hair, and then looks over at Patrick again, that sad smile on his face.   
  
"That was what finally snapped everything for them. I spent my whole life preparing for my mission, they spent my whole life expecting me to go on my mission. They didn't have a college fund, and I didn't have money for myself. We just saved for my mission because it was supposed to be the most important years of my life," he explains bitterly, "everyone has doubts now and then, they coulda seen a way to get me back on the right track until I said that. That was really it, me completely turning my back on everything they had raised me as."   
  
Patrick's at a loss for words, listening to his friend go over all of this with him. He wonders with a heavy heart if Brendon regrets it, regrets what he said and the fight, regrets not just staying quiet and going on his mission, regrets not staying a Mormon just to be able to stay with his family.    
  
"And then they kicked you out," Patrick says, not a question because he knows this story.   
  
Brendon nods, and Patrick wants to take his pain, wants to make everything right. Brendon should always be smiling, laughing, goofing off, having fun, and happy. He deserves so much happiness and Trick wants to give it to him, but this is one facet of the boy's life that he can't change or fix.    
  
"They kicked me out, I took my mission money, and I got through school until I could move away somewhere for a fresh start," he answers, before giving a smile that doesn't look happy, but doesn't look forced either, "and that somewhere was Chicago."   
  
"I'm sorry," Patrick says simply, feeling kind of useless and knowing there's nothing he can do.   
  
"That's life, throws you all around but you gotta keep moving forward," Brendon says with a shrug, sounding tired still but with a bit more energy, "I still don't really know who I am, but I know I'm not who I was."   
  
Patrick nods, and then he reaches for Brendon's face, resting a hand on his cheek so he can lean forward and press their foreheads together. He's not going for a kiss, nothing like that. Instead he just stays there like that for a moment, stuck in his thoughts of how lonely and lost his boyfriend must've felt back then.    
  
"I hate that that's how you got here, but I'm glad you chose Chicago," he says, voice soft, and he gets a smile in return from his friend.   
  
"I am too," he answers, sounding warm and a bit happier.   
  
Brendon seems happy at school, he's got a crew of friends and they always seem to be having fun and living their lives. Patrick knows he works hard too, studying and going to all his classes with a drive not to waste his chance here. He really is trying to make the most out of the hand life dealt him. Trick smiles, and then Brendon smiles back. He hopes Brendon can be happy here, with his friends and his work and his life, even with all that hurt in his past.   
  
Brendon leans in for a kiss, a chaste press of their lips, and Patrick kisses back without hesitation. It's sweet and gentle, and neither of them makes a move to deepen it or change the tempo. When they break apart, Brendon squeezes the hand still linked with his, and it makes Trick's tummy flutter a little bit. They pull back, but not too far, and Brendon looks at the older boy with this warm adoration. Patrick's heart skips, body always alive with little feelings around Brendon nowadays.    
  
"You make me happy," Brendon breathes out in a whisper.    
  
Patrick's heart rate picks up, and the way Brendon is looking at him makes him feel a little weak. Trick needs to find his words, and when he hesitates he sees a bit of warmth on his friends cheeks. Before he can speak, Brendon's smile turns to a wide grin.   
  
"You make me feel  _ lots _ of  _ other _ things too," Brendon adds with a wink, and Patrick gets what he's implying.    
  
Trick rolls his eyes but he smiles, feeling happy too. Brendon makes him feel those "other things" and maybe more. Happy is a good word for it, simple but true. From sex to hanging out to wearing Patrick's clothes, Brendon makes Trick feel a lot of things. Patrick's mind wanders a little bit and he presses his lips together in thought for a moment before he's opening his mouth nervously.   
  
"Hey uh... could you maybe uh like, do something for me?" he asks, a little unsure even when Brendon gives a confused nod, "could you wear something for me?"   
  
Brendon raises an eyebrow and all of a sudden Patrick's face and neck feel warm when he realizes how that sounds. That's not what he meant, he wasn't going there, it's only that-   
  
"'Wear something for you'?" Brendon asks, with a little smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows, but there's a strange guarded hesitance that reminds Patrick of kissing in the shower, "what kind of kink are we talking about? Want me on my knees in my Mormon clothes?"   
  
Patrick's face gets warmer, both in embarrassment, and at the thought. He can't look at Brendon and shakes his head, his palms sweating, one hand still against the younger boy's. He feels uncomfortable and embarrassed, flustered in that way that Brendon can get him.    
  
"No um, not-not like that. I meant uh," Patrick stammers nervously, trying to get his point across, "you just looked um, really cute this morning in- when you were wearing my sweater, and I uh, I was wondering if you would wear that like um, tonight?"   
  
Once the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could catch them and take him back. It's so stupid, it's a dumb request. He wants his friend to wear his clothes because he looks cute in them? Brendon doesn't answer right away, and it makes Patrick feel even more abashed. He's still not looking at the younger boy, but when another moment of silence lasts, he gives in and looks back. Brendon doesn't look off-put, doesn't seem to be looking down at him, doesn't show anything negative. He's got a smile on his face, the one he had before Patrick asked his initial question. Trick runs his fingers through his hair with nervousness. He feels so dumb and lame.   
  
"The Star Wars one?" Brendon asks, sounding almost affectionate.   
  
Patrick nods, feeling a little hopeful that he didn't just embarrass himself or put himself out there to be made fun of. Brendon doesn't laugh or raise an eyebrow, just grins and leans in to peck Patrick's cheek for a moment, giving a quick "one sec" before he climbs off the bed. He strips off his shirt, and grabs the sweater he finds thrown over Patrick's desk chair. He pulls it on, and then seems to get another thought, and strips out of his pants too. He turns with a smile, and Patrick still feels bright red, maybe flushed a bit deeper now that Brendon's looking at him again. He still feels dumb and embarrassed for asking, but the boy just looks so cute that he's starting to care less and less.   
  
Brendon pads back over to the bed in his socked feet, and climbs on again. He doesn't end up by Patrick's side again, this time he climbs in his lap. Brendon's hands hold the front of Trick's shirt lightly and he gives a little smile. His pupils are big and dark, and the playful look on his face kills Patrick a little bit.   
  
"Do I look cute?" he asks, voice having a real bit of curiosity in it before Patrick nods and then smiles.   
  
"Very," he responds, leaning in for a quick kiss.   
  
Brendon smiles against his boyfriend's lips, and Patrick can feel the younger boy's happiness mix with his. He still feels somewhat vulnerable with the question, but then he's wrapping his arms around the boy, and he finds that he doesn't care anymore. It's a light and happy kiss as Brendon's arms go around Trick's neck and his fingers tangle a little bit in the older guy's hair. They break the kiss and just breathe against each others lips before the both of them are laughing a little bit at nothing.   
  
"Hey Brendon?" Patrick asks in a quiet voice.   
  
"Yeah?" Brendon responds, eyes stuck on Trick's smiling lips.   
  
"You make me happy too," Patrick tells him, heartrate a little faster than normal with the confession.   
  
Brendon looks down at him with that look that makes Patrick weak, the one that could bring him to his knees if he were standing. Brendon doesn't respond, just kisses Patrick again, and that's all the response Trick needs.


	16. Chapter 16

Patrick wakes up sore, feeling it in his muscles when he rolls over with a groan. It hurts his back and arms to move, the kind of sore you get from exercise and not from injury. It wouldn't be the first time he's woken up sore from sex, and definitely not the first time he's woken up sore from sex with Brendon, but that's not the case today. He's sore from lifting boxes, stringing up lights, and getting into an energetic snowball fight with his boyfriend. They didn't fuck last night, didn't do anything sexual for a change. They kissed and made out for a little, and then went to bed, just talking until Brendon drifted off to sleep in mid-sentence. Sex hadn't even crossed his mind, and it's a nice change. 

He hears the unzipping of a suitcase, and with one eye cracked open, he looks over at his friend getting to his feet off of the floor. The sight of him has Patrick blinking both eyes open to get a better look at him, deciding that it just might be time to wake up. Brendon’s in a fresh pair of clothes, black dress pants with a button down tucked into them. His hair is combed and neat, and his posture is perfect when he straightens himself out. He adjusts one of his cuffs, and then catches Patrick quietly staring with his wide eyes. 

“Good morning, love,” Brendon says with a smile, the happiness in his eyes even brighter than it has been this trip. 

“Morning,” is all Patrick can echo back, caught up all over again in how good Brendon looks. 

Was it nice spending yesterday not focused on sex and instead on just being together? Yes. But does he still want to debauche Brendon in his nice proper clothes? Definitely. 

“You look nice,” Patrick mumbles appreciatively, tired but coherent as he props his head up with his hand, and Brendon raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You look pretty awake for 8:45 in the morning,” Brendon responds with a playful smile. 

Patrick groans loudly as he lets his head fall and hit the pillow. Early early, way too early. He woke up early yesterday too. Must be Brendon's fault. Asshole. 

Brendon laughs and when Patrick peeks an eye at him, the boy’s smile is warm. Trick gives a little smile back, face still 80% in his pillow, and then wonders why he's not more grumpy. 

“Why’re you awake anyway?” he asks, because they don't actually have anywhere to be until eleven.

“Woke up and figured I’d get dressed and finish packing up,” he responds with a shrug of his shoulders, hands in his pockets in a way that has no reason to look hot.

“Yeah but…” Trick starts, turning his head to look more fully at his friend again, “why’re you dressed like  _ that _ ?”

Brendon looks down at himself, rocking on his heels as he checks out what he has on. He seems confused by the question when he looks back at Patrick.

“Because we’re going out?” he explains, and when Trick just gives him a confused face he adds, “ice skating?”

That doesn’t really clear anything up. Brendon’s dressed to go out for dinner, not to slide around on some ice for a few hours. 

“Those aren’t really ice skating clothes,” Patrick responds simply.

“Oh,” Brendon says, looking over himself one more time before looking back at Patrick with an unsure look on his face, “I just thought I looked good.”

Patrick laughs a little at that, like there’s anything Brendon doesn’t look good in. The younger boy must take his laugh to be at him, and he looks away from Trick awkwardly. Patrick shakes his head even though Brendon can’t even see him right now. He’s actually surprised he’s awake enough right now to be forming full thoughts and sentences in addition to being able to actually pay attention to his friend.

“You do look good you look… really good,” he says, eyes scanning down Brendon’s body, and then up to find the boy looking at him again, “but uh, I mean they’re too nice to skate in. I’ll probably wear like, jeans and a hoodie or somethin. You can wear that but I think you’ll be a bit too dressy.”

Brendon smiles as Patrick rubs the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and sits up. He’s still tired and a bit cranky under the surface, but he’s awake now. He watches as brendon bends over to grab something out of his suitcase, holding up a bit of fabric that Patrick can’t make out until the boy talks.

“Guess a tie is too much, then?” he asks, and it takes Trick a moment to realize that he’s joking.

“Just a bit,” he responds with a laugh and a grin, “it’d look good on you though.”

“Yeah?” Brendon asks, that familiar playfulness in his voice as he takes a step towards Patrick, “you know how to tie one?”

Trick gives him a little almost-smirk in return, tipping his chin up just a bit. Brendon closes the distance between himself and the bed slowly and deliberately.

“Actually, I do,” Patrick answers.

He sits up a bit straighter in bed when the younger boy comes to sit on the edge. He crosses his legs under him, and shifts a little closer now that he can.

“Would you mind?” Brendon asks as he holds out the tie for the older boy.

Patrick takes it with a smirk, and then he’s reaching to pop up Brendon’s collar. His hands move to finish buttoning the shirt all the way up, smoothing down the fabric once he’s clasped the top one. He slides the tie around the boy’s neck and leans back to adjust the length. His mom always wanted to be one of the families that dressed up for church, and it’s distant but familiar to be tying a tie again. He winds it around in a knot easily as the younger boy sits still for him. Finally, he’s finishing the final loop and pulling it tight, popping Brendon’s collar back down and then looking at the boy. He looks good in a tie, he looks  _ really  _ good in a tie, with his neat hair and his button up, looking so cleaned up and hot. Trick feels like a bit of a lazy bum, their outfits so opposite of each other right now, but Brendon doesn’t seem to mind. 

“How do I look?” Brendon asks with a smile that Patrick thinks is trying to be innocent, but it’s missing the mark.

“You clean up nice,” Patrick responds, but then his smile get a little darker when he adds, “wait your tie looks a little bit loose.”

Trick reaches up again, and pulls the tie a bit tighter around Brendon’s neck, making the younger boy suck in a little gasp. His eyes go so dark at that, breathing getting a little heavier as he looks down at Patrick. Trick can’t tell if that’s from the tightness of the tie, or something else.

“There,” he says simply, hands dragging over Brendon’s chest when they fall from his collar, “it’s better when it’s tight.”

He hears Brendon let out a little puff of breath at that phrasing, and it makes his own breathing come a little bit more eagerly. They share a look, all intensity and anticipation, both of them waiting for the other to take that final step. Patrick stands his ground, reading Brendon with his eyes, telling him to just come kiss me already, I know you want to. The younger boy’s gaze falls to Trick’s lips, and Patrick purposely runs his tongue over them. When Brendon looks back up to his eyes, Trick knows he’s going to be kissed a half a second before he actually is. 

It’s hot and wet, a rough kiss that steals their breath away as they press closer together. Brendon’s hands reach for Patrick’s shirt to pull him close, and Patrick goes for the boy’s collar, hauling him in. Brendon seems a bit more breathless than him, that tie making it harder for him to catch his breath. Trick knows he loves that though, knows he loves the just-there restriction, knows he loves a hand on his throat when he gets fucked every now and then. With that thought, one of Patrick’s hands moves from Brendon’s collar to his tie, and he pulls, making Brendon gasp a bite desperately against his mouth. The gasp fades into a whine, and it makes Trick smirk when he bites on Brendon’s lips.

When Patrick pulls back, hand still holding that tie taunt, Brendon looks so hot. He’s red-faced and flustered like he can’t quite catch his breath, and his eyes are wide and dark. Trick drinks in the sight of him, body warm and so interested in the sight. 

“You good?” he asks, eyes intense but voice a bit more gentle.

Brendon doesn’t say anything, just nods, wide eyed and panting, but Patrick just frowns. He can’t really be convinced if the boy can’t talk. His grip loosens and he’s about to ask again, but then Brendon’s saying a breathless, “yeah, yes, I- yeah” that makes Trick smirk. His grip tightens again, wrapping the fabric once around his fingers before he pulls again. He presses his lips against Brendon’s, getting an excited smile from the younger boy.

“Tell me or just touch my wrist and I’ll stop,” he mumbles, not caring if it cracks his in-control and dominant air right now.

They’re just having some fun, nothing crazy intense or risky, but he always needs Brendon to have a tap-out, especially when it’s something like this. The younger boy nods and gives another “yeah”, and then he’s kissing Trick again, hard, rough, and insistent. They kiss and makeout for another couple moments, but then Patrick’s pulling back and letting go of the boy’s tie again. Brendon gives a disappointed little whine, but Trick’s only gone long enough to pull him on the bed fully. 

Patrick pushes Brendon down and manhandles him into a better position, on his back so he can sit on his thighs and have the upper hand. The younger boy’s eyes are almost black they’re so dark, and he’s got this heavy and heated look on his face, every trace of those guarded or uncomfortable moments from yesterday long gone. Trick reaches for his tie again and pulls, restricting the boys breath again, and watching him just so he can see that that gasp for air and the want flash in those dark eyes. Brendon’s hands reach for Patrick’s hips, just resting there and letting Trick do whatever he wants. What he wants, is to make Brendon so turned on he can’t see straight, what he wants is to have the boy begging, what he wants (what he always wants) is to get Brendon off better than anyone else can. He knows the boy’s kinks, he knows what he likes, and Trick knows just how to drive him crazy.

Patrick leans in for a kiss, and Brendon meets him eagerly. Trick kisses him hard and deep, the leverage of their positions leaving Brendon able to do little more than just open his mouth and follow Patrick’s lead. He breaks their kisses a bite more often than normal to bite or lick at Brendon’s lips, or just to breathe against them, because he’s trying not to actually smother the boy with kisses. Brendon’s started whining and making needy little noises into Patrick’s mouth, and as he gets worked up and it gets harder to breathe, he seems to give up on kissing, just opening his mouth and letting Patrick run the show. Trick only kisses him like that another moment before he decides that he’s not really down for it, and pulls back. 

Brendon looks up at him with swollen and parted lips, begging with those desperate eyes of his. Patrick lets go of his grip on Brendon’s tie, and the younger boy sucks in a breath of air. Trick hesitates a second and then reaches for the knot, loosening it and then tugging it free. Brendon’s next gulp of air is bigger, and Trick watches him close his eyes as his chest rises and falls heavily. Patrick just lets him breathe, and he slides the tie off of the boy’s neck gently. When Brendon opens his eyes again, breathing still not quite steady, there’s a darkness in them, like he’s daring Patrick to do it again. 

Trick just tosses the tie on the bed next to him, and then leans in almost as if for another kiss. He doesn’t press their lips together though, stops close enough to feel each other’s breaths, but far enough to not brush noses. Brendon seems ready to close the distance between them for a kiss, but then Patrick’s hand is coming up and resting on his throat. There’s no pressure there, but still the touch seems to punch all of the air out of Brendon’s lungs. His breathing picks up, and Trick can feel the boy’s pulse flutter under his touch. Brendon’s tongue darts out to lick over his lips, and Trick’s eyes drop as they always do when the boy pulls that move. 

Experimentally, Patrick puts a bit of pressure, and Brendon moans in response, urging Trick to give more. So he does, restricting the boy’s airflow again and watching his eyes flutter shut. Patrick’s hard in his boxers, but he’s more interested in the younger boy’s dick than his own right now. He shifts so that their legs are staggered and he’s able to press his thigh to Brendon’s crotch, earning him a high pitched little moan. Patrick’s fingers flex even as his palm stays at the same level, and Brendon’s eyes open again, meeting Trick’s gaze.

“Harder,” Brendon breathes out, shaky and quiet, and his eyes tell Patrick that he means it. 

Trick presses and squeezes a little harder, constricting Brendon and making the boy’s eyes go wide at the feeling of choking. He leans down to kiss him, but it's just a touch of lips against the younger boy’s open mouth. Patrick rocks his thigh between Brendon's legs, pleased by just how hard he is and how needy he is. Brendon’s face is red and trick can feel the boy’s hands shaking against his hip. Still, he chokes out a moan and doesn't show any signs of wanting to stop. Part of Patrick wants to get him off right here, with Trick’s hand around his throat, but part of him has another plan. 

Brendon gives a strangled noise, a cough that can't quite make it through his throat and instead just chokes him further. Patrick holds him like that for another moment, but then finally releases pressure entirely and pulls his hand away. Brendon sucks in air desperately and coughs on it, eyes watering as he tries to catch his breath. Patrick keeps his thigh pressed firmly against the boy’s crotch, knowing that rush or oxygen is bound to make his head swim and his body want more. Sure enough, Brendon moans and his hips push up for more touch as his breath comes back to him, color starting to fade from his face. Trick reaches a hand up to wipe tears off of Brendon's cheek. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice a whisper and eyes searching.

Brendon just looks up at him, panting with unfocused eyes, and just nods. He licks his lips and swallows hard and draws in another deep breath. 

“Y-yeah, shit,” he answers, voice sounding a little rough. 

“Too much?” Patrick asks, and Brendon shakes his head smiles up at him. 

“Perfect,” he responds, smile turning into a grin. 

Trick leans in and kisses him, not hesitating to make it deep even though it starts out slow. They kiss like that for a moment or two, but then Brendon gets impatient and starts picking up their pace. He's got a hand in Patrick’s hair, tangled and pulling the boy in for more. He's grinding up against Trick leg, body clearly alive with want as the kiss gets wet and rough. Patrick simply kisses back for a bit, but then he's reaching for the hand still on his hip, grabbing the boy’s wrist, and pinning it against the bed next to his head. Brendon moans and Trick does the same with the hand on his hair, weight on both of the boy’s wrists. Patrick feels resistance as Brendon experimentally tries to lift his wrists, and then whines when he confirms that he really is pinned down, no way to pull free. 

Trick breaks their kiss to smile against Brendon's lips, more of a smirk really. He rubs his thigh against the boy’s crotch until he hears a whimper and then he's chasing that sound with his lips. The kiss is rough and bruising, and conveniently distracting for the younger boy. Patrick shifts so he can pull Brendon’s wrists above his head further, stretching closer to the headboard until Brendon’s fingers brush one of the bars. He lets go of one of the boy’s wrists, and he doesn't have to say anything; Brendon just keeps it there obediently, following Trick’s unsaid directions. 

Patrick reaches for the younger boy’s hip and manages to push him a little further up the bed, getting a moan from Brendon for no apparent reason. The older guy reaches his hand to the side, searching until his fingers find the discarded tie. He focuses on kissing Brendon silly for a moment until the younger boy is squirming a little, and then he pulls back abruptly, disconnecting them and sitting back. It leaves Brendon in a daze but Patrick knows what he's doing, grabbing both of the boy’s wrists and moving them into position before the younger boy even knows what's going on. Patrick works quickly, wrapping the tie around one of the bars of his headboard without delay. It’s too late by the time Brendon realizes what Patrick's doing, because Trick’s already got him right where he wants him and he's finally pulling the tie tight, knotting it and successfully binding Brendon’s wrists to the headboard. 

Brendon looks up at his hands, tied together above him, and pulls at the fabric. Patrick's quick, but he's not a stranger to tying knots and he knows it’ll hold. The younger boy whines and pulls a little harder, straining to see just how trapped he really is. The answer is very, because there's no give and nothing changes. He looks away from his hands to Patrick with wide but dark eyes. His hair is a mess, and his lips are parted. He’s out of breath and sweaty, his nice shirt wrinkled and sticking to him at places. Then, there's a twitch of a smile, an excited spark in his eyes, and Trick knows they’re on the same page here. He gives a smirk, and slowly drags his hands from Brendon’s waistband up his body over his shirt. The younger boy’s breath hitches at the touch, unable to do anything with his hands tied, and Patrick sitting on his leg. He can't really do much except shift and make a desperate little noise. Trick’s hands get to his collar, and then one of them drifts a little higher, fingers brushing over the boy’s throat for a minute, hearing his breathing stop, before he moves away again. 

Patrick just watches Brendon, watches his reactions as he touches him. He leans over Brendon for a quick biting kiss, and then pulls back to look at the boy’s face when he reaches down to touch him through his pants. Brendon holds eye contact and bites his lip when he whines. Trick gives a little smirk and Brendon’s eyes are so dark and heavy. He's driving Patrick crazy. 

“You’re so hot,” Brendon whispers, sounding out of breath and so affected. 

That sends a little thrill through Patrick’s veins. Hearing Brendon say that, especially when he sounds so honest, it always makes Trick’s heart race just a little, even if it is just heat of the moment talk. Trick’s smirk fades into a smile for just a moment before he's snapping back to himself and kisses Brendon again. He pulls his hand back, and presses his thigh back in place, swallowing down the boy’s moan. He reaches for the top button on Brendon’s shirt and manages to work it free despite how distracted he is right now. He pops open the next two, but then stops, having no intention of taking Brendon’s nice clothes off right now. Or maybe at all. Finally getting to watch Brendon make a mess of his pants sounds so hot right now. 

Patrick’s fingers fist in Brendon’s hair, and after he breaks the kiss, they pull hard enough to make the boy cry out. Trick leans in to press his lips against Brendon’s pulse point on his exposed neck. 

“Quiet,” he warns in a mumble, and Brendon just whines with a closed mouth and nods. 

Trick trails his lips down further, finding a spot below Brendon’s neckline so that he can bite down, just a nip at first. The younger boy gives a small gasp and tries to tilt his head to give Patrick more room, to invite him, but Trick’s gripping his hair and keeping him mostly still. Brendon’s grinding up against Trick’s thigh and the movement gives Patrick some friction too. He licks a stripe up Brendon neck, and he feels a slight tremble from the boy under his touch. He kisses his way back down to where it's safe, and then he bites again. Hard. Brendon cries out, a pained noise that's a little too loud, and then snaps his jaw shut seemingly in an attempt to quiet himself down. Trick sucks at his skin, teeth lips and tongue working to make Brendon whimper. It's such a hot sound and Patrick can never get enough of it. 

The movement of Brendon’s hips and really his whole body too is enough to make Trick’s body feel warm and aroused, leaking in his boxers and sweating in his shirt. His mouth stops working as he lets go of the boy’s hair and reaches down to pull Brendon’s shirt free of his pants, untucking it so he can slip his hand underneath. His fingertips slide over skin before his hand just rests on Brendon’s hip, putting enough pressure to stop his squirming a bit. His lips trail up to the boy's neck, his face burying there as he shifts his body a little. He moves his hips back and then grinds against Brendon, their legs still staggered so it's thighs against crotch as they moan. Trick’s open-mouthed panting against Brendon's neck, breath hot and wet against the boy’s skin, and he grinds against him with purpose. He's leaking a mess in his boxers, turned on and burning up with heat and want. 

“Fuck,” Brendon gasps out, panting heavily, “Patrick, Patrick, yes.”

Brendon whines and Trick can feel his upper body move, arms straining against his bindings. Patrick knows him, and knows he's dying to touch right now. But Trick likes him like this, writhing and needy with his hands tied and at Patrick’s mercy. He knows Brendon loves it too. 

The younger boy is matching his movements, grinding up while Patrick grinds down, both of them moving eagerly. Brendon starts to get an extra level of whiny, and Trick pulls his face away from his neck to kiss him. He keeps moving while he kisses, all wet heat and lips and tongues, not stopping until Brendon is trembling and whimpering under him. When he breaks their kiss he just presses his forehead against the younger boy’s, breathing against him. Brendon’s got his eyes closed and he looks so far gone. 

“You close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. 

Brendon bites his lip and whines, nodding his head. He opens his eyes after a moment and they're so dark and desperate. Trick's hips slow a little bit as he presses his lips to Brendon’s, sliding over them briefly before breaking the touch.

“Good,” Patrick responds with a little smirk, “because you’re gonna come in your nice clean pants for me.”

Brendon's breath hitches, and his eyes go a little wide. He looks so turned on and needy, licking his lips like he’s hungry for something. 

“Yes sir,” he breathes out, voice rough and eyes eager. 

That sets a little fire in Patrick’s veins, gives him a jolt that sparks his body. Brendon looks so submissive, laying there with those eager-to-please eyes, like he's going to follow directions like a good boy. Trick smiles once he gets his head back on straight. He grinds slow and hard down on Brendon and the boy moans, prompting Patrick to do it again. He kisses him to muffle the sounds and Brendon seems to get the message because after that kiss he's pressing his lips together to keep those noises in, silently following directions as always. Trick smiles against Brendon’s mouth. 

“Such a good boy, always following directions for me,” he mumbles, and Brendon whines and nods, “even when I have you tied and pinned under me all you wanna do is what you're told.”

Brendon nods a bit more eagerly, staying quiet like he's supposed to. Patrick shifts his weight a bit so he gets a better angle to focus on his thigh against Brendon's crotch instead of on his own hardness too. He can worry about himself after he's taken Brendon apart a bit more. He presses his thigh firmly against the boy, and listens that gasp. 

“You love this too. You want me to make you come in these nice proper  _ church _ pants of yours,” Trick whispers, grinding his thigh against Brendon again.

That makes the younger boy give another whimper, and Patrick doesn't know if it's at the words or at the touch. Brendon breathes out a shaky “y-yes” and Patrick grins, leaning in to nip at the boy’s lip for a moment.

“Tell me,” he instructs, and he doesn't have to wait another moment before Brendon’s licking his lips and doing so. 

“I want it, I want it please,” Brendon whine, sounding so turned on and so far gone, “‘make me make a mess of my church clothes, please Trick I need it.”

Patrick knows he can be pretty good at dirty talk, but it only takes a few words from Brendon to prove that he’s no match for the boy. Dirty and dominant stand no chance against needy and desperate. Brendon’s begging is one of the hottest things he's ever heard, and he plays it in a loop in his mind when he's alone. Sometimes it's all he needs. He mumbles a “fuck”, and then he's kissing Brendon hard, a rough kiss that’s probably gonna be too obvious later. The younger boy moans and kisses back, but from his position he's mostly just letting Trick have full range. With Patrick's hand on his hip, his wrists tied above him, and Trick’s tongue down his throat, all he can really do is take what he’s given. He can be so submissive sometimes and Patrick’s more than happy to be the dominant guy he needs. 

It doesn't take long to get Brendon writhing and moaning under him again, lips hungry and body straining up for more. Patrick breaks their kiss and Brendon bites his lip hard against the sounds in his chest. It's a rush to get Brendon like this just from over-clothes touching. He feels close to Trick, like he’s about to crumble and so Patrick pulls his face back a bit so he can look down at Brendon, so he can watch his face. The younger boy blinks his eyes back open, but his eyelids are heavy, and his lips are wet and red, looking so obscene. He catches Trick’s staring and he whimpers quietly at the gaze. Patrick knows his eyes are intent, that watching Brendon has to feel intense and pinning to the younger boy, but he doesn't look away, and neither does Brendon. The younger boy meets his stare, letting Patrick watch him even as pleasure and need flash over his face. His eyes look submissive, obediently giving in to the older boy. It drives Patrick crazy, increases his efforts with fervor. 

Brendon gets closer and closer, his face becoming more desperate and vulnerable by the second, but he doesn't move to hide it. There's nowhere he could hide from Patrick's gaze anyway; he’s trapped under those eyes and not only that body. Trick’s fingers grip Brendon hip a little harder and it doesn't take much longer before the younger boy is gasping and his head is tipping back, before his hips stutter and his body shakes. Patrick doesn't stop, keeps going as Brendon’s body asks for more, seemingly so overwhelmed as he comes in his pants and comes hard. Trick kisses him a moment before there's a vibrating moan coming from the younger boy’s chest and spills into Patrick’s mouth. Brendon whines Trick’s name and then it's all he can do to breathe and pant as his body rides everything out. 

Trick’s already reaching up for Brendon’s tie by the time the younger boy comes down and seems to come back to himself. Brendon looks up at him for a second before he’s smiling and laughing, bright and happy. It makes Patrick smile, and when he looks down at him, he’s got his eyes closed but his chest is rumbling with his laugh. Trick leans in to press a quick kiss to his lips, and comes away with that contagious giggle. Brendon bites his lip and smiles, eyes so bright as he looks up at Patrick through his lashes. It makes Trick’s heart skip. He looks back up to Brendon’s hands, going back to untying him and then finally working the knot free. 

As soon as Brendon’s hands are free he's reaching for Patrick’s face, pulling him in for a happy kiss. It sweet and messy, and Trick finds himself loving the touch. He's still so hot and turned on, but right now it's taking a backseat. Brendon goes to run a hand through Patrick's hair but then he flinches and makes a pained noise. 

“You okay?” Trick asks, voice quiet and gentle.

Brendon nods and then pulls his hands back, rubbing one of his wrists with an uncomfortable look on his face. 

“Yeah, just kinda stiff,” he responds with a shrug. 

Patrick sits back, still half in the younger boy’s lap, and then helps Brendon sit up. He reaches for one of the boy’s hands, holding his wrist and hand. He stretches it one way and then the other, rotating it slowly, trying to loosen it up from the tight and uncomfortable position. Brendon’s quiet, watching Patrick as the older boy moves onto his other hand, touch soft and helpful. 

“Better?” he asks with a smile, and the one he gets from Brendon is softer than his own. 

“Better,” Brendon agrees with a nod, stretching his own wrists out without discomfort.

He leans in, and Trick thinks he's going for a kiss, but then he stops. He frowns and wiggles a little before looking down at himself, or more specifically, at his crotch. There's a wet stain on them and it really shouldn't make Patrick smile like it does. 

“Gross,” Brendon laughs, but when he reaches for his belt, Patrick grabs his forearm, earning him a confused look. 

“Get me off first,” Patrick says, and his smile is a bit darker. 

Brendon just nods, eyes a little bit wider at the request. Then, he grins and presses a hand gently to Patrick’s shoulder, sitting up straighter. 

“Let me up?” he asks, and Patrick climbs off of him.

Trick lets Brendon move him, shifting them with soft pushes and pulls so that Patrick's sitting with his back against the headboard. He settles with a puff of breath, muscles relieved to not have to hold himself up anymore, and instead just relaxing against the bed. Brendon climbs in his lap, hands going back to Patrick’s face so he can give him another kiss, a real kiss. Trick kisses back, hands going to Brendon’s hips and just resting there. They just kiss for a moment, and then Brendon's hands are trailing down, one of them not hesitating to slip into Patrick’s boxers. Trick gasps a little at that initial touch of skin, and Brendon kisses the noise out of his mouth. Their lips are going to be so swollen and telling today, but it beats the whole house hearing them moaning in here. 

It's actually a good thing that Brendon doesn't try to blow him, because his mouth and voice would kind of push them over the edge of dangerous territory. If the younger boy’s lips weren't evidence enough, his voice is still a little rough, and giving a blowjob isn't exactly going to help that. It's a good thing Brendon doesn't try because honestly, Patrick doubts he would be able to tell him no. 

They kiss and make out as Brendon touches him, and that mixed with the heat that's been building this whole time gets him pretty close pretty fast. It doesn't take long at all for him to get off, with Brendon's tongue in his mouth and fingers on his cock. He manages to hold back his moan when he finally comes, kissing Brendon with purpose. The younger boy smiles and bites Trick’s lip, keeping up the pace and jerking him through his orgasm. Patrick's head spins and his vision is still kind of unfocused when he opens his eyes. He gets the sight of Brendon wiping his dirty hand off against his pants, just adding to the mess of come in and on them. When Brendon catches his eyes, he leans in for another kiss, soft and sweet. 

“You’re so hot,” Brendon whispers against his lips, and it gives Patrick butterflies in his stomach. 

Trick reaches a hand up to Brendon's face, pulling him in for another kiss, nothing dirty, but still full of feeling. Since when has Brendon made him feel so much? When their kiss breaks, Trick looks Brendon up and down before he makes eye contact again. He looks so good like this, messed up but happy.

“You too,” he says, sounding distracted as he stares at Brendon’s lips before he realizes how lame that sounds, “like uh, you um hot too. I mean, you're hot too.”

His face feels warm and he feels so dumb. ‘You hot too’? Is that really what he said? Brendon's got an amused smile, but his eyes aren't judging, instead they’re nothing short of adoring. It makes him feel flustered but still kind of embarrassed. The younger boy doesn't say anything in response, just kisses Trick again with a little chuckle in his voice and Patrick finds himself smiling too. Eventually, Brendon pulls away again with a sigh looking down at Patrick affectionately once more before climbing off of him. 

“Okay now these are definitely getting the fuck off me,” he says with a theatrical grimace as he reaches for his pants again. 

Patrick laughs in response, helping the boy tug his pants off of his legs. His underwear comes next, and Trick can see just how much of a mess they made. Or well, how much Patrick made him make. Trick reaches over for the box of tissues on his nightstand and hands them over to the younger boy, watching as he cleans himself up. Patrick finds himself missing the other boy’s warmth, disappointed as he leans off the bed and grabs a pair of clean underwear to slip it on. He doesn't really have time to feel that way long though, because then Brendon's climbing back over to him, going for another kiss. 

Patrick kisses him back happily, arms reaching around the younger boy for a hug. Brendon presses closer and then he's in his lap, not straddling like before, but instead just sitting on him, body turned sideways to be in his lap. Patrick holds him a bit tighter as Brendon holds his face and tips it up for a better kiss. It's comfortable and easy. It's nice. 

“Were we too loud, do you think?” Brendon asks when they finally break their kiss, one of the boy’s hands on Trick’s shoulder and the other still on his face. 

“Oh definitely,” Patrick responds with a sheepish little smile, knowing he’s at fault here for letting Brendon get that noisy. 

A blush comes up on Brendon's cheeks, and he hides his face in Patrick’s shoulder. He's so cute.

“Don't worry, I don't think anyone's been close enough to hear us,” he responds with a small shrug, “and besides, Kevin’s room is the one next to mine so if anything it was just him.”

Brendon looks up at him, head resting on Patrick’s shoulder as he gives a ‘hm’. Then he's leaning up to kiss Trick’s jaw and then sitting back again. 

“Maybe you just need to keep me quiet next time,” Brendon says with a little smirk, eyes a bit darker when he adds, “I kept thinking about you fucking my throat while I was tied up laying there.”

The visual of that is so hot, and Trick groans at the thought. He reaches for Brendon’s face, hand on his palm so he can run his thumb over the boy’s full and swollen lips. He can picture it so well. 

“I was thinking about gagging you,” he admits, distracted staring at those lips. 

“With my tie next time?” Brendon asks with a little smile, and Patrick looks back up to his eyes. 

“Actually I was thinking about your belt instead,” Trick responds, voice level and casual like this is a completely normal conversation. 

“Fuck,” Brendon breathes out, pupils wide and dark, running his tongue over his lips. 

Patrick wonders if Brendon’s thinking about the leather between his teeth, the breadth of it keeping his mouth open. He wonders if he's thinking about how sore or stiff his jaw would get like that, and how rough and unyielding it would be in comparison to something like a tie. He wonders if Brendon's mind wanders because his sure as hell does. 

Brendon leans in for a kiss, slow but biting, and when he pulls back there's a smile on his face, eyes soft and fond. 

“We work well together,” he observes, and Patrick couldn't agree more. 

“We do,” he says with a nod, and Brendon’s smile gets wider and his head tips slightly to the side. 

“I love having sex with you, I love all kinds of sex with you” he says with this gentle and out-of character voice, “and I love...”

Brendon trails off mid-thought, mind obviously turning over his words as his smile fades into a milder expression. Trick raises an eyebrow at him, and he swallows hard before he's smile at Patrick again, something crooked on his lips. 

“I love getting fucked,” he says simply with a wink. 

Patrick laughs at that. A truer sentence has never been uttered. Trick leans in to press his laugh against Brendon’s lips in a kiss, one that Brendon returns eagerly. 

“I love fucking you,” Trick responds in a mumble once their kiss breaks. 

Brendon just grins up at him, wide and happy, and then pulls Patrick in for another kiss. They should be getting ready for the day, getting ready for ice skating, but neither of them seem to care. Trick doesn't mind being a little late. 


	17. Chapter 17

Patrick expected Brendon to not be that great on ice skates, so that's not really a surprise. The extent of "not great" that the boy is does however come as a surprise. Trick really should've known based on the way he tied his ice skates so poorly that Patrick had to re-do them for him, or maybe just based on the way that he needed Patrick to practically carry him to the rink because he couldn't find his feet under himself with the blades on. But instead of taking note of the signs along with the knowledge that Brendon never lived in a winter city, Patrick simply didn't realize that Brendon had never ice skated before. It isn't until Brendon climbs on the ice with two hands on the side of the rink, takes one step, and then slips and falls flat on the ice that Trick realizes that he has no idea what he's doing.    
  
Patrick skates over to him easily from where he was already halfway around the oval, and comes to a stop next to the boy while he's still struggling to even get to his knees.   
  
"You okay?" Patrick asks, and when Brendon looks up at him, he reaches out a hand with a smile.   
  
There's a flush that spreads over Brendon's cheeks, and Patrick doesn't think it's from the cold. The younger boy gives an embarrassed little smile as he takes Patrick's hand and lets himself be pulled up. He gets to one foot, and then the other, but then right as he's straightening out, they slide in opposite directions and he yelps as he loses his balance. Patrick's quick and wraps an arm around Brendon's waist, supporting him before he can fully fall. However, that just puts Brendon's unsteady weight against his side, and he finds himself having to reach out for the short wall of the rink to steady the both of them.    
  
One of Brendon's hands is on the wall, while the other has a death grip on Patrick's shoulder. His face looks white, eyes wide with fear even as Trick keeps his hold on him tight and secure. He's looking down at his feet like he's scared they're gonna run away and take the both of them down to the ice again.    
  
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," Brendon answers, but neither his tone nor his expression are very convincing, "just-just slipped."   
  
Patrick looks at him for a minute, looks at how unsure his face is and at the icy wetness of his knees, and that's finally when it clicks for him.   
  
"You've never done this before," he says simply, and it's only half a question.   
  
"Nope..." Brendon mumbles, that blush coming back as he still doesn't look at Trick.   
  
Patrick just smiles at his boyfriend, and he's not sure why Brendon’s being cute right now, but somehow he is.   
  
"Here, hold onto the wall," he says as he starts to take his arm back from around his friend, only to get a panicked look and a tighter grip on his shoulder.   
  
He laughs at that face and leans in to kiss Brendon's nose briefly. Then he's pulling back again, and taking Brendon's wrist in his hand, moving it off of his shoulder so he can start to slide away.   
  
"I'm not going anywhere B, so just relax," he says with a smile, turning so he's in front of his friend and face to face with him, one hand on the wall and the other still holding Brendon's.   
  
"You're too stiff. Bend your knees and lean forward a little, yeah like that," he instructs, watching his friend use such small and hesitant movements to follow his directions, "make sure your ankles aren't turned in or out, keep them straight."   
  
Brendon nods, but then starts to slip again. Luckily this time he has the mind to hold onto both the wall and Trick's hand, and he manages to stay on his feet, albeit unsteadily.   
  
"Try to hold onto me or the wall when you start to slip like that," he says and Brendon looks up at him to nod before his gaze is dropping back down to his feet, "now we're gonna try to move, okay?"   
  
"Um," Brendon says, eyes still on the ice with a voice that clearly says 'how about no we don't do that?'   
  
"You'll be fine, just take little steps towards me," Patrick explains, and then when he gets a head nod from Brendon, he slowly starts to slide himself backwards.   
  
Brendon's hand clamps around Patrick's, holding on as if for dear life and still not moving, stopping Trick's own movements with the grip. Then, he takes a deep breath, and takes a little step. From there, the two of them are able to slide a little bit around the outer edge of the rink, Brendon on shuffling feet while Patrick skates backwards and holds his hand. He almost tumbles down once or twice, but manages to catch himself on the wall or on Patrick's chest. Eventually they get to the point where Trick's advising him to start taking small glides on his feet. Brendon's unsteady at first, but slowly he manages to get the hang of gliding a little on one foot before stopping and trying the other.   
  
Kevin and Megan skate by them a few times with smiles and waves or small words, and Patrick just waves back at them, watching them have their fun. He would like to skate a few laps, sure, but he's just as happy here helping Brendon. The younger boy is doing well, but he keeps getting distracted and discouraged by everyone else around them zipping by and skating effortlessly. Patrick sees Brendon's eyes wander and a frown form on his lips when the boy notices some kid who must be under ten skating backwards past them. The shift of focus isn't good for his balance and he only watches another moment before his feet are slipping a bit too far forward and his weight is falling back. He scrambles with a noise of panic as he loses his grip and starts tumbling, reaching out to grab for something, anything to hold onto. That 'something' just happens to be Patrick. The older boy tries to catch him, but the weight and grip ends up taking his feet out from under him too, and they both end up tangled and hitting the ice together in a mess of limbs with a loud and painful thump.   
  
The two of them groan, dizzy and disoriented, laying on the wet and slippery ice. They look at each other and make eye contact, and then just burst into laughter. There's nothing specifically funny about falling down on an ice rink, but for some reason, they just keep laughing, giggling and smiling until their sides hurt as much as their butts and hips do. Patrick manages to catch his breath eventually, looking down at Brendon to find the boy already looking back at him, eyes bright and a chuckle still in his chest. Trick can't help leaning in to press a kiss to Brendon's lips, a sweet and happy kiss that ends in more laughter. When they finally pull away, they both feel lighter and warmer, having fun sitting on the rink in a mess. After another moment or two, Patrick gets to his feet pretty easily, reaching out a hand to pull his friend up too (but with a bit more of a struggle).   
  
Brendon seems happier now as they skate around the edge of the rink, and it seems to make him more relaxed, having an easier time on the blades. They manage to do a full loop successfully, and Brendon seems to be pretty proud of himself even though it was clear that this morning he must've thought that this wasn't going to be all that challenging.   
  
"You ready to start skating away from the wall?" Patrick asks, knowing that they can do it if they focus. Probably.   
  
Brendon chews his lip as he looks at him, and he obviously seems unsure and like he would much rather stay somewhere safe. But then he does smile, and he nods his head, even though his eyes still show his hesitance.    
  
"Here, take my hands," Patrick says, letting Brendon grip them both hard.   
  
He then pulls them both towards the circular flow of people, still facing Brendon and skating backwards in front of him. He's been ice skating so many times in his life that it actually feels pretty natural to him. He guesses that it's the closest thing to a sport he'll ever be able to do successfully.   
  
"Small steps, just like before, try to focus on staying balanced," he says helpfully, watching his friend try to do just that.   
  
They're slow and people have to skate around them, but they're moving. They're not touching the wall and they're still moving. Once Brendon's back to gliding his feet one at a time, they manage to have a steady pace going on. The younger boy finally stops staring down at his feet, and instead looks ahead of him, at Patrick and over the older boy's shoulder. He's not the most confident but he's getting there slowly. Patrick grins at him, directing them both around the rink once and then twice without Brendon hitting the ice. It's a successful lesson.    
  
Trick suggests they skate side by side for a bit, holding hands, and like before, Brendon is nervous but he agrees. It must be a different feel for the younger boy, because all of a sudden he's unsteady again, wobbling and not able to control his turns or direction. Patrick talks him through it, and Brendon relaxes and steadies himself again. It's only halfway into their first loop around when Brendon falls on his butt again, unable to be held up by Patrick's hand alone. Trick's concerned, but Brendon just shakes it off and gets back up to keep going. It gets smoother and quicker as they keep going, the younger boy feeling more and more comfortable at Patrick's side. They skate and slide and talk and smile, managing to have a good time. Brendon is by no means a pro, still needing to go slower than the majority of the crowd, gripping Patrick's arm tight enough to threaten circulation, and tumbling down another few times, but it's still fun, and Brendon doesn't let himself get discouraged.

They skate until the cold seeps under their clothes, making Patrick shiver and start to feel the tiredness in his bones. They've only taken a break once for the ice to be cleaned, and then had gotten back out there, and now Patrick's thinking that they need another longer break, or maybe to call it a day. It isn't until he takes a look around the rink that he notices that none of his family are still out. They must've turned in already, leaving Trick and Brendon on their own. He suggests that they go one more round and then get off, and Brendon makes a lewd comment about Patrick's phrasing, but then agrees that he's pretty tired too.    
  
When they step off the ice, Brendon almost falls again, but Patrick manages to catch him. He's getting pretty good at that. They get over to an outside bench since he doesn't think they can make it inside with Brendon on blades, and Trick pulls off his gloves to start undoing his skates. His fingers fumble with the laces and he can't seem to untie them easily, struggling with the simple task using numb hands. He gets a chill down his spine, and that cold makes him shiver. If he’s cold, then Brendon undoubtedly is too, and with the amount he'd been hitting the ice, his clothes must be damp and icy.  He glances over at his friend, and sees the boy in worse shape than him. His hands are shaking as he pulls at his laces, his cheeks and nose are red, and he's sniffling at the cold, bent over as if he's trying to save warmth by huddling in on himself. He's got layers of warm clothes on, layers a lot thicker than his clothes his morning, but still Patrick can see him tremble.   
  
Megan comes looking for them, telling Patrick that everyone's inside warming up and to come find them whenever. Trick waves a thanks and says that they'll be in soon, and then he goes back to finishing untying his skates. By the time he has both of them off, Brendon's only got one untied but still on his foot and the other not even touched.    
  
"Here, lemme help," Patrick says, not waiting for a response before he's kneeling in front of Brendon and reaching for his shoe.   
  
"Th-thanks," Brendon chatters, rubbing his hands together and then pressing them between his thighs for warmth, "fingers are c-cold."   
  
Patrick loosens the untied shoe even more, and slips it off the boy's foot for him. Then, he's turning for the other one. His fingers are still numb and stiff, hands moving a lot slower than Trick means for them to, but they manage to do the job.    
  
"We can get hot chocolate when we go inside," Patrick offers, undoing the last lace on Brendon's skate.   
  
"Mmmm, chocolate," Brendon says, slightly dreamy, and it makes Patrick smile for no reason in particular.   
  
Once they're both shoe-less, they stand back up on socked-feet and carry their skates inside to return them. Trick waves back at his grams over at their family table part way across the lodge, and they head to get their shoes back. After that, they're making a beeline to the concession counter, and they're getting their hot chocolate (extra whipped cream for Patrick, and then for Brendon too once he decides that Trick's request is a good idea). Brendon's already burnt his mouth by the time they get back to the family, but he doesn't really seem to care, still taking small sips of his hot chocolate with that big whipped cream smeared smile.

They all walk around downtown for awhile after that, shopping and looking around and just enjoying the day. Brendon still seems to be freezing though, so not long after Patrick notices his boyfriend’s hand shaking in his, Trick tries to sneak them off to go find a cafe. They're not subtle or unnoticed though, and Kevin and Megan end up tagging along too, bored of shopping already anyway. Trick manages to find a coffee shop for them all to warm up in, getting him and Brendon coffee and sweets to munch on. They grab a table off to the side, a safe distance away from the door and the blowing wind of chilly air, cold hands around hot cups to try to find some feeling in their fingertips again. It feels so comfortable for Patrick to slip into the seat next to Brendon, to scootch it closer just so their legs can touch. It’s so natural to be by his side, close enough for their elbows to bump, sharing little smiles and winks with him that belong to no one but each other. 

The four of them talk, but Patrick finds himself not really listening to anyone except for Brendon, not hearing anything except for him. His eyes stay on the younger boy by his side, body turned towards him, his gaze only wandering when he’s giving a polite glance to one of his siblings when they talk to him. Brendon’s so cute with his rosy little cheeks, so handsome even with his messy hair, and so attractive that it makes Patrick just want to reach out and kiss him. Or maybe just reach out and touch him to be sure he’s real. He feels lovesick, he feels head over heels for his boyfriend. He doesn’t really care about the rest of the day because, even though Brendon seems frozen solid, he looks happy. Even when there isn’t a smile on his lips, his eyes are bright, like this is exactly where he wants to be. Patrick just can’t look away, stuck on that face and that voice. Whenever Brendon glances over to find Trick staring at him, he gives a wink or a silly face or a smile. Patrick’s not sure which he likes more because they all make his heart skip a little. Since when has being with someone been so easy?

It kind of amazes Patrick how effortlessly Brendon makes everything enjoyable and fun. Over this whole trip, the only times when he was anything short of happy were the times when he was filled up with nerves. Even then, Brendon was still there to give him a wink, or maybe a kiss. To touch him somehow and say something sweet and calming. To be there for him and to ground him. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun at a family event. There’s just something about Brendon that makes things seem right. Patrick feels lucky that he’s here, and he feels lucky to have him. 

What pulls him out of his happy little daze of appreciating his boyfriend is when Megan asks what time their train leaves. It snaps his attention with a jolt for a reason Patrick can’t really identify, and makes him frown. He’s not sure why the question makes him feel so uneasy, but it does. He responds that they’re leaving after dinner and that they’re gonna try to catch the 9:20, and Megan makes a face. It’s her “chill it was just a question, don’t get all pissy, Trish” face, and Patrick didn’t even realize he was using his “pissy” voice. When he looks back at Brendon, the boy seems a bit down too. Maybe they’re both just tired and not looking forward to classes.

“You okay, B?” he asks, concern in his voice as he watches his friend’s face.

Brendon looks at him with surprise, and only hesitates a moment before nodding, a smile sliding onto his face.

“Yeah I was just thinking about the state of your room and how I’m not gonna help you pack,” he says with a grin, sticking out his tongue playfully.

Patrick rolls his eyes and calls him a jerk, but he’s smiling and when he knocks his shoulder against his friend’s, it’s friendly and just as playful. They make eye contact and share a smile, and the stress of classes and train rides is gone from their minds for a little while longer.


	18. Chapter 18

Glenview is a nice town. It's full of friendly families and little stores, an affluent suburb of Chicago that's a great place for kids to grow up. There's nothing necessarily wrong with the village, and there are a lot worse places for Patrick to have grown up in, but Trick still couldn't wait to get out of there. It never really fit him. He always felt like he was made for crowded city venues, busy streets, basement shows, hustle and bustle, and cramped tour vans, and not for the rich sporty lifestyle that the town is known for. He always misses Chicago when he's gone, always feels like the city is calling for him back, but it's nice to come visit his hometown when he can. It reminds him of how home used to feel when he was a little kid. 

Patrick knows his way around town, especially the shopping district, and so he doesn't even think about where his feet are taking him after he and Brendon leave the little cafe and Trick’s siblings behind. Brendon simply follows along, seemingly willing to follow wherever Patrick leads. Now that they're a bit more warmed up distance doesn't seem to be an issue. Not even a block from the coffee shop, he's feeling a hand slip into his, and he shares a smile with his boyfriend before he’s tugging him across the street. Brendon still doesn't ask where they’re going, and Patrick isn't really aware of where he's leading them until he's coming to a stop in front of a record store that’s been around since his dad was a kid. He's been here more times than he can count, and when he looks to his friend and asks if he wants to take a look, he's happy to find an excited smile on Brendon’s face and an agreement. One thing they can agree on, one thing they’ve always agreed on, is music. Not necessarily on the artists or genres, but just on music as a whole. Trick knows it's as important to him as it is to Brendon, and they could be talking about completely different sounds and still be on the exact same page. Art and sound doesn't need to be defined within genres anyway. Music is music. Brendon gets that. 

The store hasn't changed much since the last time Patrick was here sometime last year. Really it hasn't changed much since he was coming here in high school. Boxes and crates packed into every space, posters plastered to the walls in place of wallpaper, the whole place looking a small and messy room of  _ stuff.  _ It probably looks hectic to some (or to most), but they've always got hours of stuff for Patrick to look through, new and old, and Trick always loves how unpolished the place looks. He doesn't recognize the guy who greets them from the register, but he’s friendly enough. 

Patrick’s hand slips from Brendon’s as the younger boy wanders over to look in a bin of records, and Trick just smiles after him for a moment before starting to look himself. It doesn't take long for Brendon to call his name, holding up a record to show him with an album cover that honestly looks like it coulda been something Pete put on an Arma cover. Brendon cracks some joke about how they must've stolen Pete's creative vision and he has Patrick laughing. They spend a while there, talking music and cracking jokes, showing each other records and discussing this and that.

Trick isn't really looking for anything in particular, but neither of them were really planning to, just flipping through albums for the hell of it, but then he's stumbling onto something that catches his eye. It's a collection of Christmas songs by the Rat Pack, and it makes Trick glance over at his boyfriend, the younger boy tapping out a beat to some unheard tune against one of the bins. Patrick knows Brendon loves Sinatra and he can totally see him dancing around his dorm and crooning to some Christmas music. The visual of Brendon in a Santa hat while he sings make Patrick smile and he looks back down to the record under his fingers. It would be a good present, but he’s not sneaky and he doesn't think that he could get away with buying it without being caught. He glances over at his friend again, and slips the record back into its place, except he leaves a gap at the location to mark its spot. 

“Hey where’s that metal album you found earlier?” he asks, trying to sound easy and casual as he heads over to where his friend is, “the one that ripped off Arma’s artistry?”

Brendon looks up and laughs, a loud and a happy sound.

“Why, you think he needs some inspiration for future projects?” Brendon asks with a grin, backtracking and flipping through some past bins again, 

“I was thinking about getting it for him as a joke, but who knows,” he shrugs, “maybe he'll actually like it.”

“Sounds like Pete,” Brendon responds with a laugh, eyes scanning the bins until he finally finds it, pulling it out and handing it to Patrick triumphantly. 

Trick accepts with a thanks, and finds himself laughing again when he looks at it. The half-dead looking person, the blurry distortion, the long and darkly poetic (or maybe just stupid) album title, it's all so metalcore Pete. He tries to be nonchalant as he walks back to where he had that bin marked, making sure that Brendon’s not looking when he slips the Christmas record out of its place. He heads up to the register, and says hey to the guy working, but he keeps sending nervous glances back Brendon’s way. 

“Just the one?” the guy asks, and when Trick turns in confusion, sure that he places both records on the counter, the guy is giving him a knowing smile and a wink. 

“Uh yeah. Yeah just that,” Patrick responds, knowing he's not being sly at all, but appreciating the guy’s help. 

After Trick’s all checked out and the records are hiding in a bag, he turns to find Brendon standing by the door looking at posters on the wall, apparently waiting for him. 

“Ready to go?” Trick asks, going to join him.

“Waiting for you, babe,” Brendon responds with a smile, taking Patrick’s hand as soon as the older boy is in reach. 

The cashier calls a “happy holidays!” to them as they leave, and the two of them echo it back to him. Once they get outside again, Trick pulls out his phone to get tabs on everyone. His mom had texted him, Kevin, and Megan and had told them where the rest of them were at the time. She updated it a few minutes ago with a new store a bit further down. Megan and Kev are still at the cafe according to Megan, likely too tired of shopping to leave the warmth of the shop. Trick relays the information to Brendon as he texts his mom that the two of them are heading back towards them now. 

Walking down the street with his boyfriend, Patrick notices that this holiday feels less like a vacation to see his family and more like one to see Brendon. They've spent so much time together, and Trick finds himself caring more about what Brendon's doing than what everyone else is doing. It's nice to be able to do this, to just be together like this. They should find time for this more. It makes him happy. 

They're maybe a block from the store they're meeting everyone at when Patrick hears his name called behind him. 

“Rick!” he hears, and his step falters, Brendon coming to a stop next to him too.

“Hey Stump!” someone calls, and Patrick’s shoulders feel tense as he turns to look behind them, hand slipping from Brendon's as he moves. 

He doesn't recognize the voice as one that belongs to a family member, so that means it must be someone from high school, much to his chagrin. His suspicion is confirmed when he sees a group of a couple people from high school not far down the street. He tries to suppress a groan but Brendon must catch it because he gives Trick a sideways look. Honestly, Patrick probably doesn't even remember their names, and he doesn't care to be reminded. He focuses on the girl who called out to him and thinks her name is Anna, but he's not confident enough to say it aloud. They had some english class together senior year (or was it history?), and he remembers her always trying to talk to him, but never really caring. She seemed into him, but she gave up when she found out he was fucking her brother.   
  
Patrick fakes a smile and gives a stiff but polite wave to the group of four that come over to see them. Nothing he loves more than seeing people from high school. He didn't want to talk to them then, and he doesn't want to talk to them now.   
  
"Rick, long time no see!" says the girl (Anna?) when she catches up to them, a wide smile on her face like she's actually happy to see him.   
  
"Uh yeah it's been awhile," he responds, trying to sound at least somewhat happy to see them, "not since graduation right?"   
  
Tight-lipped and fake-interested, he sounds like his mom, and he tries to shake off that feeling. He almost goes to say something else, but then he's being cut off by one of the guys in the group.   
  
"Yeah, feels like forever ago," the boy says, and Trick's eyes snap to him when he smirks because oh, that's a face he recognizes: Anna's brother,    
Alex.   
  
Patrick looks at him, and really Alex DeLeon isn't a bad looking guy, but he's not Trick’s type. In high school, he kinda went with any even half interested guy in his school. When you're that young and still mostly in the closet, it's hard to find willing guys. Especially ones who will bottom. Alex was willing, so Patrick was fucking him. 

He looks different than he did in high school, he’s cut his long hair down short, probably why Patrick didn't identify him at first. He’s short and holds himself like a dudebro, and he's got that crooked smile on his unshaved face that he always had in high school. He's got a backwards baseball cap, leather jacket, and chain necklaces hanging from his neck. Not the kind of guy Patrick would go for nowadays. His type is more…

“I'm Anna by the way,” Anna says, flashing a sweet smile Brendon’s way, putting on her flirty eyes, “we went to school with Rick.”

“Oh uh, I'm Brendon,” he responds, a charming smile on his lips, “Patrick’s boyfriend.”

Anna’s eyebrows arch up in surprise and Trick sees Alex give the younger boy an up and down. Brendon takes half a step closer, and when the older boy looks over at him, he’s once again reminded of how universally attractive Brendon is, especially in comparison to himself. Not for the first time this trip, he finds himself feeling lucky to have a guy like Brendon at his side. He wonders how surprising it is to them that he landed a guy out of his league. 

“Boyfriend?” Anna repeats, before giving a shrug, “guess I'm kinda surprised.”

“Me too,” Alex agrees, eyes drifting back to Patrick, “you were always more into staying casual.”

The way he says that must get Brendon attention, because then he's frowning and Trick can feel the younger boy’s hand on his lower back. It's a natural touch, one that Patrick wouldn't even think about if it wasn't so deliberate. 

“Well you never know where the fuck your life’s gonna go,” Brendon responds.

The frown on Brendon’s face fades when he looks over at Patrick and gives him a warm smile, like his life’s gone exactly where he’s wanted it to go lately. Anna laughs in response and nods her head. 

“You never do “ she agrees, and almost goes to say something else, but Trick’s cutting her off before she can speak. 

“Well I told my mom we would meet her down the street, so we should probably get going,” he says, voice giving off that conversation-ending tone, “it was nice to see you though.”

Anna gives him a look and he knows she probably wants to talk and catch up, but he's just not in the mood. He's never in the mood to talk to people from high school. 

“I won't keep you from your family,” she responds with a smile, “have a nice holiday!”

Brendon and Trick echo that back to her and the rest of the group. Alex gives him a casual wave and a goodbye, and as soon as Patrick doesn't have to face them anymore, he's turning back the way he was headed, and starts on his way. Brendon falls into step next to him, and one of them makes the move to hold the others hand again, Brendon’s overtop of Tricks own comfortably. Patrick gives a little grumble and Brendon looks over at him, even though grumbling is a default Patrick sound. 

“You alright?” Brendon asks and Trick gives a little sigh. 

“I hate running into people,” he responds, scrunching up his nose, “especially like Anna who I was never even friends with.”

Brendon gives a ‘hm’, and then he's quiet for a moment. 

“So… Who was the short guy with the baseball cap?” Brendon asks, trying and failing to sound casual and conversational. 

“Oh that's Alex, he's Anna’s brother,” he responds even though he knows that doesn't answer the right question until he continues, “we uh, we used to hook up sometimes in high school.”

Brendon’s head whips behind them, looking back to where the group is still hanging around where they left them. Bingo. When Brendon turns back forward his face seems a bit stiff. 

“Wouldn't have pegged him for your type,” Brendon comments, and Patrick shrugs. 

“He's not really but he was right back there. I stayed casual, and I took what I could get,” Patrick responds, realizing belatedly that he might be sounding like he was somewhat of a slut back then. 

“Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky that you've had the experience to learn to be so amazing in bed,” Brendon says with a chuckle, smirking and bumping Patrick’s shoulder with his own. 

Trick snorts, but his cheeks feel warm and he knows Brendon’s right; he’s so good because he’s had practice. He's fucked enough guys to know what he's doing, and it's a skill that he’s glad to have. 

“Yeah, I've got that going for me,” he responds simply. 

“You have a lot going for you,” Brendon counters, voice a bit more serious than it has been. 

Patrick doesn't respond because he doesn't have a response for that. Everything he can think to say is self deprecating of makes him sound like an ass. Brendon squeezes his hand, and then pulls it up to press a kiss to the back of it. 

“Are you gonna make me wax poetic?” he asks with a smile, making Patrick laugh, “don’t test me Stump, because I will.”

Trick grins over a him, and he knows his eyes are a bit brighter. Brendon makes him feel confident, Brendon makes him feel like he's good at something, Brendon makes him feel wanted. 

“You're… Kind of amazing Trick,” Brendon tells him, voice soft and eyes warm, before he seems to realize what he's said and he looks away, clearing his throat with a bit of flush on his cheeks, “um what store are we looking for again?”

Patrick is caught off guard by that first sentence, heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in the younger boy’s voice. It sounds so sincere, and it makes Patrick feel a little breathless. But then, Brendon’s switching the topic and Trick lets it go. 

“Uh, oh right, it's called…” he looks up, eyes scanning where they are before he spots where they’re headed, pointing down the block a bit, “right here, the clothes store at the corner.”

They go to rejoin the family, but before they do, Patrick stops him right outside of the shop. He leans in for a soft and chaste kiss on the lips, and lets it linger. When he pulls back, Brendon’s eyes are closed and they take a moment to open. As they do, the younger boy smiles, and Patrick’s mind replays that ‘you're kind of amazing’ back to him, making him feel warm and giddy, happy to be right where he is. 


	19. Chapter 19

Dinner goes by in a blur, talking and laughing and enjoying the last holiday dinner for Patrick and Brendon. They eat out at a nice family restaurant, a change from the home cooked food they've been having. The two boyfriends sit side by side, a position that they drift to naturally by now. Neither of them want to go back to school, but they're both looking forward to having at least one more day to relax home in Chicago before classes start. Patrick feels happy.   
  
It's not until they get back home and up to Trick’s room that things take a turn. They need to pack, well more specifically  _ Patrick _ has to pack because Brendon is pretty much all set to go. Of course, they both knew that this is how things would end up. There's a strange feeling, a foreboding dread, in the back of Trick's mind that he can't quite name. He pushes it aside and tries not to worry about it while he has stuff to do. Brendon asks him the time, and Trick goes to pick up the younger guy's phone to check. What he reads pulls him back down to Earth away from the pretend land his mind has been living in the past few days. There's a text from Jake on the screen, and Brendon never bothers to turn off text previews, so the message is there for prying eyes.    
  
_ When are you coming back? I wanna see my fuckboy _  ;) ;P   
  
That's when the reality of the situation hits Trick. They're not actually boyfriends, they're not even dating. They're just friends who hook up and the only reason Brendon is here is because Patrick needed a favor and Brendon had nothing better to do with his week. Patrick looks over at his friend as the younger boy stretches, leaning over and commenting on how much they (meaning Patrick) still need to pack. Trick agrees with a distracted ‘uh huh’, but he's not actually listening. He's thinking about how much their interactions have changed the past few days, how much is different. Brendon looks over at him, and he drops his eyes to the phone in his hands.   
  
"It's uh, it's quarter to 7," he says, wondering if his voice sounds as unsteady as he feels, "oh and Jake texted you."   
  
"Thanks," Brendon responds, but he sounds far away and distracted too.   
  
Patrick feels a headache coming on, frustration rising in him and making him tense. He let himself get wrapped up in this lie, and he let it own him. For awhile now, he's been playing this part but he's gotten lost. He's hasn't been acting lately, he's been genuine. But all the while, Brendon's still been available. He still has hookups back home that are waiting for him. Has he been talking to them this whole time? Does he already have somewhere to be tonight?   
  
Brendon must sense that something's up, because he's quiet and then he closes the distance between them. Patrick can hear him and see him out of his peripheral, avoiding looking at him because he's not sure if he can. Brendon doesn't give him an option, stepping right in front of him and reaching for his face. The taller guy tips Trick's head up, making him look towards him. They make eye contact, and Brendon gives him this little smile. His touch is so gentle, and his eyes so warm. Patrick can't figure out where they stand, can't distinguish what's actually been real between them. His head is too scrambled to examine the facts, but he holds onto the idea that he'll find something that was real, find something that wasn't an act between them.   
  
"Hey," Brendon breathes out, and looking at his face, looking at those caring eyes makes Patrick feel a little breathless, "what's on your mind?"   
  
_ You _ , Patrick wants to say,  _ it's you. It's been nothing but you lately _ . Instead, he just reaches out for the front of Brendon's shirt and kisses him. He kisses him hard and deep, and doesn't let up. Brendon feels surprised, but then he's kissing back, eager and with energy. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Patrick is all too aware of how his body responds. Not just with heat and want like it always has, but also with something that means a whole lot more. His pulse races, his skin tingles, there's a happy warmth in his chest, his heart skips and flutters, everything feels alive in him. He honestly feels like he could kiss Brendon forever and just never stop. He could be content to do nothing other than kiss, never go further than this. It's all he feels like he needs. What a good con man Brendon is.   
  
Eventually it comes to an end, both of them breathless and panting against each other's lips. Patrick's mouth tastes bitter at the fact that his "boyfriend" can be so convincing in his role. None of this is real, no matter how dizzy Brendon can make him with his kiss. Patrick's eyes are closed as he tries not to feel so lost. Brendon's still touching him, and every touch, every breath, every movement drives Patrick a little more mad with what he feels. Can they just pretend for a little while longer? Can they just hide in this room and stay boyfriends? But they can't, because they never were boyfriends. Even in this little lie, things never truly changed between them. They're the same people they were before. Patrick's still the same guy who called up his friend for a favor, and Brendon's still the same guy who Patrick picked up at the train station the next morning. Nothing's changed. Not boyfriends. Not dating. Just friends. That's all. Just friends. When Patrick opens his eyes, Brendon grins at him, and it makes Trick hate him just a little bit.

“Alright, I’ll be a good boyfriend and help you pack,” Brendon tells him with a little laugh, finally stepping away before winking at Trick, “even though I said I wouldn’t.”

Trick feels so lost. Brendon calls himself Patrick’s boyfriend and acts like he has been these past few days, but there’s proof on the guy’s phone and in Patrick’s head that says that Brendon isn’t who he pretends to be. He was never pretending when it came to Trick though because Patrick has always known who he was behind the pretense. But somewhere along the way he forgot, and Patrick let himself fall head over heels for Brendon. 

He doesn’t say anything, just nods in response before Brendon turns to survey the room. It’s a mess still and Trick probably needs help anyway. He doesn’t want help. He wants this to take as long as possible. He wants to miss his train. He wants to stay here. He wants Brendon to stay here with him. Brendon starts grabbing stuff off the floor and throwing clothes on the bed, and Patrick sighs before getting up to go help. Life doesn’t work the way you want it to, but it still goes on. Trick starts to smile again as the two of them work through his room. Regardless of what the future holds, when he’s with Brendon, he’s happy. There’s so many casual touches between them, smiles and brushes of hands, that brightness in Brendon’s eyes, and Patrick finds himself almost getting lost again. It’s so easy to pretend when Brendon calls him babe, or laughs at what a slob he is, or leans over to kiss his cheek. 

By the time they’re both packed and ready to go, it’s getting close to when they have to leave, and Patrick knows what he wants. He wants this to not have to end, he wants Brendon to be his boyfriend. He really really does. He hasn’t had much luck or really much interest in relationships lately, but with Brendon it just feels so natural and easy and  _ right.  _ Brendon makes him so happy and his heart skips at the thought of even being close to him. He wants to pull Brendon close and kiss him, make him laugh, and then afterwards ask him to be his boyfriend. He can see it clearly in his head, just the way he wants it to go. It seems so real, so possible, so close, but he knows it can’t be that simple. That’s not what they are to each other, and if Patrick oversteps his boundaries right now, this whole thing could come crashing down too early. At least let him pretend a little longer. Before they get to Chicago. Maybe that way the trip will stay this happy little fantasy, unbroken in his mind. It makes him smile to know that he’ll always have this memory, that he can always look back and remember being this happy with this guy who makes him feel so much. The thought of going back to just friends and hookups hurts, but it’s okay because he has a feeling that he’ll always remember the way Brendon kisses him now. He might never get those kisses again, but that’s okay. He’ll be okay.

The two of them linger in Patrick’s bedroom even after they’re ready to go. Brendon must sense Patrick’s hesitance, and he doesn’t push to leave anytime soon. Trick wonders how easy he is to read. He’s looking around his room, wondering if it’ll ever feel the same again. He’s had more than a few boys here, but no one like Brendon. He doesn’t know if another boy like Brendon even exists out there. Seems impossible. Brendon feels unique, something incredible that it would be impossible to reproduce or simulate. 

Brendon goes up to him once again, and this time he doesn’t stop to say or do anything, just kisses Patrick right where he stands in the middle of his room. The kiss is slower than it was earlier, but just as deep, making Patrick’s knees feel weak. He reaches for the back of Brendon’s head, pulling him closer as he kisses back. He feels hands on his hips, and then Brendon is walking him backwards. He doesn’t realize how close he is to his bed until his legs bump against it, and Brendon’s laying him down on it. The younger guy climbs on top of him, and yeah Patrick feels warm and wanting, but there’s no sex here, nothing beyond kiss and touch. Brendon leads their kiss, and Patrick follows. Trick is used to being the one in charge, driving everything, but with his back against the bed and Brendon on top of him, he’s willing and happy to let Brendon take the lead. It’s different, but something Patrick feels like he needs right now for some strange reason.

They kiss for awhile, and Patrick forgets all of the terrible things eating at the corners of his mind. They don’t matter. How could they, at a time like this? With Brendon kissing him and touching him, he doesn’t feel worried or dreading or lost. He feels happy and content and filled with a fond feeling that fills his chest. He already knows the name for that feeling, even if he’s not ready to admit it to himself. Brendon breaks the kiss, moving back enough for him to be able to look down at Trick. He smiles, and it’s so warm and adoring that Patrick loses his breath for a moment.

“I’m happy here with you,” Brendon confesses, voice gentle and sincere.

Trick’s heart skips a beat, the tenderness in those words getting to him. Brendon’s pupils look big and his smile is so soft and real. Patrick reaches up a hand to touch Brendon’s face, thumb rubbing affectionately over the younger boy’s cheek. Brendon leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering at the feel.

“Me too,” Patrick admits, simple and to the point, voice showing all the emotions he can’t vocalize as he gives Brendon a little smile in return.

Brendon grins at him, like they’re the only two words he ever needed to hear. He leans down for another kiss, and when their lips connect, Trick loses his grip on what’s real and what’s fake entirely. When they break apart again, Patrick feels like he would follow Brendon to the ends of the Earth. Anything just to be sure he could be with him, always within arms reach, able to touch him.

“We should get going,” Brendon whispers, and Trick nods after a slight hesitation.

Brendon gets up and then holds out a hand for Patrick to take, helping the older guy up too. Brendon’s hand is warm and solid in Patrick’s. It's something he holds on to. They grab their bags, but right before they head for the door, Trick needs to catch Brendon for another quick kiss. His whole body feels that kiss, and Patrick knows without a shadow of a doubt that he loves Brendon. He loves him. 


	20. Chapter 20

Patrick’s mom drives them to the train station, Trick in the passenger seat and Brendon in the backseat. The younger boy leans forward to talk to them, one hand always on Patrick’s shoulder or arm. Things feel different now that Patrick knows how he feels about Brendon. Every touch, every laugh, everything about Brendon just reminds him how in love he is. Saying goodbye to his family was short and easy. Saying goodbye to Brendon is gonna be impossible. He tries to live in the moment where they're together, and this amazing boy in the backseat is his. When they get back home, Brendon won't be his anymore, but Patrick knows that he'll still feel like he’s Brendon’s. 

Patrick hugs his mom goodbye at the station, and she hugs Brendon too, just as tight. He’s standing a bit away as he watches them hug, and before his mom pulls away, he sees her lean in to whisper something to Brendon, too soft for Patrick to hear. The younger guy smiles and looks over at him, and Trick can only wonder what his mom is telling him. Brendon thanks her for everything, and before they turn away towards the station, he says that he hopes to see her again soon. It catches Patrick off guard a bit, and it makes him realize that he won’t have to fake being sad or torn up when he tells his family they “broke up”, because he’ll probably already feel that way. He knows they’ll be disappointed because they all really seemed to like Brendon, but he can’t keep bringing the guy back for every family event. Next time wouldn’t be real anyway, at least, not like this time felt.

Trick reaches to pick up his duffle as Brendon reaches for his hand, fitting them together so easily. They head into the station, Patrick with his overstuffed mess of a duffle bag and his backpack, and Brendon with his neatly put-together suitcase. Trick’s not a stranger to the station, and he leads them to where they need to go, ordering them tickets without even reading the words on the kiosk really. They get outside and onto the platform quickly, and they have plenty of time to spare. Patrick can’t remember the last time he didn’t almost miss his train at this station. 

It’s almost 9:10 and their train isn’t supposed to come for at least another 10 minutes, so they find an empty bench on the platform. It’s cold out, and they sit pressed side by side. He wishes he could blame the way he leans into Brendon on the cold. Trick needed both hands to buy and order the tickets, but somewhere along the way, they had started holding hands again. Brendon’s hands are cold, and Trick wonders why he didn’t wear his gloves, wonders if maybe it was because he likes to hold Patrick’s hand without them. He holds Brendon’s hand with both of his own, trying to warm it up at least a little bit as the younger boy presses his free hand under his thigh. He knows Brendon must be so cold, just as he has been all trip, but the vegas boy doesn’t complain. He doesn’t pull away or huddle in on himself or ask to go back inside, instead he stays put at Patrick’s side. Trick never wants him to leave. 

Neither of them say much, and it’s not that neither of them can think of what to talk about, it’s just that they don’t need to talk. They’re comfortable in silence, just being in the presence of one another without feeling the need to fill the air with talk. The train is late as always, and for once Patrick doesn’t seem to mind. He’s in no hurry to get home. 15 minutes pass by, and then finally there’s the roar of the train approaching. Trick nudges Brendon’s shoulder, and the two of them get up and on the train. They find two seats in the fairly empty car and throw their baggage in the overhead before settling in. Trick fishes out their tickets and snaps them to the clip in front of their seats. The train departs and Patrick figures they’ll probably get to Chicago by 10:30. Brendon’s weight is at Trick’s side, and his hand is on his knee, making Patrick turn to look at him. He’s smiling that smile that Patrick loves.

“I had fun this week,” Brendon says, “thanks. For all of it.”

There’s more than one way Brendon could mean that, but Trick doesn’t take the time to try to figure out what ‘all of it’ refers to. He’s happy to take it to mean the whole trip. Everything. Patrick’s about to respond, but then the younger guy is leaning in to kiss him, gentle and chaste. He remembers when he first picked Brendon up at the station. He had called him babe and given him this sweet kiss, and Patrick had known he was teasing. Back then, he had never been kissed like that by Brendon before. Now he feels like all of their kisses feel that way. When they pull away, their smiles mirror each other until a yawn catches the younger guy off guard.

“I’m so beat,” he yawns, voice distorted with the sound.

“Me too,” Patrick nods, fighting back that contagious feeling that watching someone yawns gives him, “you’ll probably be all kinds of sore tomorrow from skating.”

Brendon gives a little groan and it makes Trick smile a little to himself. Sure he knows he’ll be sore too, but it’ll mostly just be a muscle soreness. He knows Brendon’s gonna have more than a few bruises tomorrow. Brendon rolls his shoulders and then settles back against the seat again with a sigh. 

“Worth it though,” he says after a minute, and when Trick glances at him, he gives a little wink that makes Trick’s heart flutter in a way that he should really come to expect by now.

A silence falls over them after that, but it’s definitely a tired one this time. The conductor comes around to check their tickets and Patrick watches out the window at the passing shapes in the darkness. Riding back to Chicago is always a weird feeling. Like he’s leaving home to go back home. Brendon shifts and moves to rest his head on Patrick’s shoulder, smiling up at the older boy when he glances over. Patrick flashes a little smile and then turns back to the window, finding a tune stuck in his head. He can’t quite put his finger on it, can’t remember the lyrics, but the melody is happy and familiar. He knows it’s a song Brendon likes, and it finds it kind of strange that he can’t remember anything about what the song actually is, but he can recognize it as something Brendon likes. Without thinking about it, he starts to hum the tune in his head, and he feels Brendon smile at his side. Patrick wants this train ride to never end.

It’s barely any time at all before Brendon falls asleep on Patrick’s shoulder, and even shorter after when Trick follows him. He’s not worried about missing their stop, partly because they’re heading to the end of the line, but also partly because he doesn’t care. The few times along the route that he drifts awake before falling asleep again, he feels happy. If there’s one word for how he feels, how he  _ always  _ feels around Brendon, it’s ‘happy’.

Patrick’s already starting to stir when they finally pull into the Chicago station, and when they lights brighten on the train and the conductor yells that it’s the last stop, it shakes him a bit more awake. Morning or night, Patrick doesn’t function well after being woken up. He’s groggy and grumpy, but he manages to wake Brendon up and stand up to grab their stuff. Brendon rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand and yawns, and Patrick can’t help thinking that he’s just so damn cute. He guides the both of them off the train, even while they’re both seeing sleepy stars in their eyes. He blinks hard a few times to try to read the signs for which way to go, but his eyes don’t want to cooperate. Brendon leans against Patrick’s side, half asleep again with his head on the shorter guy’s shoulder and an arm wrapped around one of Trick’s.

Patrick thinks he figures out what the dizzy blurry too-bright signs are telling him, and he pulls Brendon in the direction he thinks they should be going. When they get outside, the air nips at them once again and Brendon shivers at his side. It’s less than a mile to Patrick’s place but he’s far too tired to get over there on his own two feet, so he shuffles them to the curb and waves down a taxi. He’s feeling more awake, but still in that way where you know as soon as your head hits the pillow you’ll be out like a light. They climb into the cab, not even caring enough to put their luggage and bags into the trunk, and Trick gives his address to the driver. He’s not conscious enough to realize that he never asked Brendon if he wanted to stay over tonight. Honestly, he hadn’t even considered asking. 

The younger boy falls asleep in the cab again, and Trick wonders if he ever even woke up. Brendon stays against his side, sleeping on him even as Patrick tries to stay awake this time. It’s a feat of strength, but Trick doesn’t fall back to sleep before they get to his place. He pays the cabbie and shakes Brendon awake, guiding the other boy once again. They get their stuff out on the curb and up to the apartment, Brendon shuffling his feet and not really paying attention to where they’re going. They don’t even think to talk about Brendon staying with Patrick tonight, it just happens. 

The apartment is cold when they get in, and Patrick goes right to the thermostat, putting it up to a temp that’s a bit warmer than he would normally like for Brendon’s sake. He doesn’t care if he sweats Pete out of here, it’s cold and his boyfriend is cold, so the heat is going up. Brendon’s already made his way to the bedroom, and Patrick follows him there, finding a suitcase abandoned by the door and a guy flopped face down on his bed. It makes Trick smile. He flips off the hall light, and doesn’t bother turning his bedroom light on because the only thing he’s doing is throwing his stuff down, shucking his outer layers off, and climbing in that bed. 

Brendon grumbles a noise that could honestly just be an imitation of Patrick a good 75% of the time, but then when the boy realizes that the reason he’s being moved around is so that Patrick can climb in bed with him, he’s a lot more cooperative. Trick wants to pass out right now, but Brendon is still fully dressed and doesn’t seem to be taking any action to fix that, so Patrick helps. He takes the coat off the boy’s shoulders, then his hoodie. It takes a bit of moving around and wiggling, but then Trick’s able to pull his shoes and pants off too, so they’re both just in shirts, underwear, and socks. Brendon helps minimally, but Patrick’s still the driving force behind the operation. Once they’re done, they start to settle down, but when Trick’s cold hands touch Brendon’s arms, the younger boy shivers. 

“‘M cold,’ Brendon mumbles, eyes closed and body relaxed, not doing anything to change that.

Patrick grumbles, an imitation of Brendon’s imitation, and then gets up from his bed. He stumbles over to his dresser and pulls a drawer out, sifting through it to find what he’s looking for in the dim moonlight from his windows. When he turns back around, Brendon’s shifted into the warm spot that Trick had just left, and he looks like he’s maybe asleep again. Patrick pads his way back over, and reaches out to shake Brendon’s shoulder softly, getting a half unconscious ‘hmm?’.

“Hey B,” Trick whispers, waiting for Brendon to open an eye at him before he holds out the sweatshirt he had grabbed from his dresser, “here.”

Brendon blinks at the fabric, and then up at Patrick, but instead of looking disoriented, he looks a bit more awake. Just a bit though, because one of his eyes still hasn’t fully opened, and he hasn’t made a move to so much as sit up. Then he smiles and reaches out to take it.

“Thanks,” he whispers back, sounding so sleepy, but also pretty darn happy.

Brendon sits up, and scooches over, letting Patrick climb back in bed next to him. He pulls the sweatshirt over his head, and it’s way too big for him. He looks really cute in it. They lay down and Trick pulls the covers up over them. They press close together, arms and legs tangling together in a way that’s not quite comfortable and yet perfectly comforting. Patrick’s eyes are closed as soon as his body relaxes against the bed, ready to fall off into sleep, but for some reason he doesn’t just yet. He opens his eyes back up and finds Brendon watching him, his gaze soft and adoring. When the boy realizes he’s been caught, he turns his face into the pillow even as his smile grows, and Trick realizes that Brendon’s cheeks would probably look pink if he could see color right now. His hand reaches out to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair gently, and when the younger boy looks back up, he looks so happy and content, like there’s nothing else in the world that matters right now. Trick leans in to kiss him softly and briefly. It’s a goodnight kiss, a ‘see you in the morning’ kiss, a ‘sweet dreams’ kiss, an ‘I love you’ kiss. 

“Goodnight Brendon,” he whispers, already feeling like he’s fading again.

“‘Night Trick,” Brendon whispers back, leaning in to press another quick kiss on Patrick’s lips.

As Patrick’s fading off he remembers the thought he had on the train about leaving home to come back home. He almost laughs because this time, his heart knows that’s not true. He never left home. Home is here. Right here with Brendon. He falls asleep first this time, feeling warm and safe and happy, like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.


	21. Chapter 21

When Patrick wakes up, he feels warm and comfy, all wrapped up in blankets with a warm body pressed against him. He smiles and snuggles closer to the boy in his bed, feeling fingers running through his hair. He gives a content little sigh, feeling just about ready to drift back off to sleep. Brendon stretches next to him right when he’s starting to fade again, and he ends up peaking an eye open at the younger boy. Trick looks up at that messy hair and the rumpled sweatshirt, and he feels like he’s okay with staying awake. Brendon’s on his phone, but once he notices Trick’s gaze, he’s putting it down and giving the older guy a happy little smile.

“Good morning,” he says and Patrick rubs at his eyes and gives a sleepy smile back.

“‘Morning,” Trick responds, sounding groggy and out of it.

He pulls Brendon closer for a quick kiss, just a small one to say good morning, and Brendon smiles against his lips. The younger boy kisses back, and makes it a bit more than a simple hello kiss. They end up deepening it slightly, falling into a lazy almost-makeout. Brendon ends up flat on his back as Patrick rolls on top of him, taking the upper position as usual. They kiss and kiss until finally one of them breaks it for no reason other than needing a second to breathe. Trick looks down at the boy below him, and finds himself so in love with how Brendon looks right now. He’s got that just woke up look that looks so casually good on him, and his lips are wet and just a little bit swollen. He looks up at Patrick with a smile in his eyes, and Trick feels so far gone for him.

“Breakfast?” Brendon asks, and it takes Trick a minute to realize it’s an offer.

Patrick grins and nods, starting to feel that ache of hunger in his stomach. There’s other sore aches and pains in him, but he can complain about those later.

“Are you saying I woke up early enough for breakfast?” he asks with a little laugh, knowing that more often than not, he sleeps late enough that whatever he eats can’t be considered breakfast anymore (and sometimes can’t even be considered lunch either).

Brendon laughs in response, and Patrick’s heart skips at the sound. He loves that laugh.

“Actually it’s already past noon,” Brendon says, and neither of them even pretend to be surprised, “but I’ve been up for awhile and I’m craving breakfast food.”

Even still, Trick doesn’t move away or take any action to sit up or get out of bed. They’re hungry yeah, but he doesn’t want to leave the comfort of his bed right now.

“You’ve been up for awhile? What, just watching me sleep? Creep,” Patrick asks, voice playful and joking.

Now with the sun giving the room light and color, Patrick can actually catch the color of the blush that spreads over the younger boy’s cheeks. He looks kind of embarrassed, like he was caught doing just that.

“No uh, I was just,” Brendon starts before clearing his throat and getting ahold of himself again, “texting some people. I’ve been pretty disconnected from everyone and they’ve been hitting me up now that they know I’m back.”

That makes more sense. Trick had just been kidding, but he knows it would be pretty silly to assume that Brendon spent the hours since he woke up just laying with Patrick while he slept. Brendon’s coat is thrown over Trick’s desk chair, so he knows the younger guy must’ve gotten up to grab it at some point. The idea of people “hitting Brendon up” shouldn’t really mean anything to Patrick, but it kinda does. He knows it’s probably just friends wanting to hang though, nothing to really think about.

“Sarah and Zack?” he asks, tilting his head a bit, knowing that Brendon’s pretty popular, but he has his central friend group that he’s just about always around.

“Nah, just Jake actually,” Brendon responds with a shrug like it’s nothing. 

But it's not nothing. It's so far from nothing. Brendon’s been laying in his bed and texting another guy, another hookup, with Trick still asleep and wrapped around him. There might even be unread messages from Sinclair on the younger guy’s phone that came in while they were making out. Patrick can taste Brendon in his mouth, but it’s turned sour. He tries not to feel hurt or bothered, but he does. Brendon’s not doing anything wrong really, but Patrick feels somewhat angry at him and frustrated with himself. He wonders when Brendon saw that text from yesterday and what he said. Was it still at Patrick’s parent’s house? Was it on the train? Or was it laying in bed together this morning? Where was Brendon when he was texting his hookup. No matter what, he was by Patrick’s side when he replied.

Trick sits back a bit, but Brendon stays put, laying comfortably against the bed. The boy is smiling, and it’s such a perfect smile that he has, but it just irks Patrick even more. Even now, it feels like Brendon’s conning him. He’s still playing his little part in this whole scheme, but the show’s over. They got their pay and left, and Brendon needs to snap out of his role already so Patrick doesn’t love or hate him anymore than he feels like he does right now.

“He’s probably eager to see you, huh?” Patrick asks, knowing his irritation shows through his words. 

“Yeah we haven’t seen each other all break,” Brendon responds normally, even though he does seem a bit confused, or maybe just curious about Trick’s attitude. 

“Well don’t let me hold you back,” Patrick says, sitting back on his heels and putting distance between them while he waves a hand vaguely, “feel free to take off if there’s somewhere you wanna be.”

Now Brendon looks fully confused. He pushes himself up on his elbows and gives Patrick a look like he’s trying to figure him out. He’s quiet for a moment, and Trick can tell he’s not irritated or anything, just lost for some reason.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, tone a bit cooler.

“I mean, there’s nothing keeping you here. Shows over, you can go home now if you want,” Patrick responds, tone a bit meaner than he intends it to be, “my parents are convinced, and that’s all we needed right?”

Brendon’s eyes narrow as Trick talks, his jaw hard and set. Patrick should just keep his mouth shut, but his words are coming out harsh, fueled by the hurt in his chest. The younger boy sits up, now at Patrick’s level when he speaks.

“Hey don’t act like this was my problem too. You’re the one who needed something,” Brendon responds, voice icy with a bite of irritation in him, “I wasn’t the one who called you, I was helping you out.”

Trick feels a pang in his heart, a twist in his stomach. That’s all this was, wasn’t it? Just a problem that he needed help with. He needed a favor, and Brendon agreed to help him. That’s the only reason Brendon showed up. There was never anything more to it, there still isn’t anything more to it.

“Then why are you even still here?” Patrick asks, bitter and to the point, trying not to let anything show in his eyes even as his heart pounds in his chest and in his ears.

Brendon lets out a huff of frustration and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks so distraught, and like he’s stuck between wanting to fight, and wanting to just go back to sleep. Patrick thinks he almost looks hurt, but it must just be the irritation and anger which he’s clearly feeling for some reason. Whatever. Patrick doesn’t care.

“Maybe I should’ve just gone home last night,” Brendon mumbles, and Trick isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself or if the comment is deliberate and meant for Patrick’s ears.

Last night was excusable even. They were both tired and neither of them were thinking. What doesn’t fit is Brendon waking up this morning and crawling back in bed. He laid back down next to Trick and spent the morning texting a hookup. Patrick can’t help but feeling like Brendon had no right to do that, like in a way it’s some sneaky betrayal. Brendon never owed him anything, and yet somehow it feels like he did.

“You had no reason to stay,” Patrick responds, hands in fists and breathing rough with anger that he never knows how to handle, “last night,  _ or _ this morning.”

Brendon looks straight at him, gaze set and full of feeling. He looks angry but it’s not that explosive kind of anger. It’s steady and even, and the boy is obviously caught up in his thoughts. Trick knows they’re mean ones and they’re all targeted at him. Patrick meets his gaze and doesn’t back down, staring right back at the other guy like he’s daring him to argue. Honestly, Patrick kind of wants a real fight, full of pointless insults and yelling, one where he can get all of this shit off his chest and let his anger out. He’s waiting for Brendon to make that first move, to elevate this argument so Trick can go off. But instead of spitting something back or starting a physical fight, Brendon just lets out a ragged breath and looks away. He shakes his head and his face is twisted.

“No, fuck this,” he says, gritted out through his teeth as he pushes at Trick’s shoulder to get out from under his weight.

Patrick falls back against the covers, not even attempting to catch himself. He watches Brendon climb out of bed, grabbing his phone as he goes. His movements are jerky and quick, and there’s so much emotion in every step he takes. 

“I’m not doing this,” Brendon says, mostly to himself as he grabs his jeans, pulling them on quickly without even a glance back at Patrick.

Brendon shoves his shoes on, and then grabs his coat and his suitcase. Patrick sits up and watches him, fighting over if he should say anything, and what he would say if he did. Nothing nice comes to mind. Brendon takes one step towards the door, but then stops short. He throws his coat down for a second, and then reaches for the back of the sweatshirt he’s still wearing. He pulls it up over his head, and doesn’t even bother handing it back, just throws it on the floor. Then, he’s picking his coat up again and heading out the door. 

He stops in the doorway and finally looks back at Patrick, the older guy just sitting on his bed, watching quietly, trying to think of one thing to say that isn’t harsh or biting. They make eye contact, and Brendon looks like he’s gonna say something. He hesitates, but then just shakes his head and turns away without another word. There’s a part of trick that wants to chase him. A hurting, lonely, so in love part of him that just wants Brendon back. But that part of him loses the battle that the rest of him is fighting. He hears the door slam shut, and he hasn’t moved a muscle. 

There’s a heavy silence in the apartment, the sound of being home alone after being surrounded by people for so long. It’s loud, it’s deafening, and Patrick can’t take it. He burying his face in his hands and yells, a frustrated sound that he just needs to let out. It doesn’t make him feel any better. He pulls at his hair, feeling so hot and filled with anger that he just can’t deal with. He wants to bury his face in his pillow and scream for an hour, but then he realizes that it probably smells like Brendon. His sheets and his clothes probably do too. He picks up his pillow and throws it across the room, not even caring when he hears it knock something down. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on breathing. He tastes blood in his mouth and his head pounds, but then he can breathe again. When he opens his eyes again, he realizes he doesn’t want to be in his bedroom right now. There’s too much Brendon in here for him.

He heads to the kitchen to find food, something comforting, and something definitely  _ not  _ breakfast food. When he gets there, he finds a cup out on the counter next to his kettle. There’s a tea bag waiting in the cup, and water in the kettle. It takes Trick a moment, but then he gets why they’re there. Brendon must have put it out for him when he got up this morning, anticipating that he’d want tea when they got up to make breakfast. It takes a lot of willpower to not break that mug, gripping it tightly in his hand, but he manages it. His stomach feels sick and the last thing he wants right now is tea. The last thing he wants is anything that will make him think about Brendon. But it’s probably too late for that by now. Everything makes him think about Brendon. The only thing he thinks about is Brendon.

He finally falls apart right there in the kitchen, sliding to the floor with that mug still in his hands. His stomach hurts, his head hurts, his chest hurts, his heart hurts. Every part of him aches and he knows there’s no use fighting the breakdown he falls into. That little act of kindness brings him down, shoots straight through his heart and makes it hard to breathe. That little act that could be mistaken for love.


	22. Chapter 22

Patrick sits on his kitchen floor and cries harder than he has in a long time. He sobs until he feels all cried out and is left with a concave empty feeling in his chest. His head throbs with a pounding behind his eyes, and all he wants to do is lay down and make everything go away. He forces himself to get to his feet, and his head reels for a second, and he needs to hold onto the counter. He finally puts that taunting mug down. His legs feel sore, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s from skating yesterday. He wonders if Brendon’s feeling it too. Apparently he still had some more crying in him, because even though he squeezes his eyes shut and balls his hands into fists, a little tearless sob falls from his lips. 

He heads back to his room for some advil and maybe to get some more sleep, but he doubts he can get any rest at this point. He feels sick. There’s a mess of stuff on the floor next to his pillow in a heap, and he really doesn’t care if anything’s broken. He fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket, and he’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved that there’s no messages from Brendon. He should probably be glad there’s not something angry waiting for him, but he can’t help but wishing Brendon had said something, that maybe they could talk or fight their way out of this. Patrick sighs and tries to will away the ache behind his eyes. He wants to lay down, but Brendon is everywhere, he can’t get away from him. He almost climbs in bed, but then he notices the younger boy’s hoodie from last night still laying on the covers by the corner, and he doesn’t even want to look at his bed. Brendon spent the night with him here, and his brain can’t do anything but replay their kisses and smiles back to him on a loop. He’s still angry, he just doesn’t know at what anymore.

Trick doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels so worn down and tired, but he can’t sleep. He’s hungry and irritable, but he can’t eat. He just wants to hide in his room, but he can’t stay here. He stands in his bedroom and stares at the bed, stares at his floor, gets lost in his head, trying to figure out what to do with himself when he feels so lost and lonely and out of place. It feels like there’s nothing he can do but blame himself and wait for his chest to not feel so hollow. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, cringing when he remembers waking up to Brendon’s fingers doing the same thing.  _ Please take me back _ . He sighs and grabs his coat. He needs coffee. 

\---

There’s a starbucks right by Patrick’s apartment building, and it used to be his go-to spot up until this year. Brendon has since turned him onto this smaller student-run shop that’s closer to the freshman’s side of campus. It’s more of a trek, but they have better tea, decent food, and strong enough coffee to get him through rough nights. They’ve met up there more than a few times, and Patrick knows that it’s Brendon’s favorite café in the area. He opts to head there without really thinking at first, but then when he realizes where his feet are taking him, he just goes with it. He needs to get out and stretch anyway, walk away some of these harsh feelings, and freeze off any of his lingering heat. Honestly though, the anger is almost completely gone. He’s just tired now, and he needs some strong black coffee to give him at least some form of energy. A part of him wants to just go over Brendon’s place, bang on the door, and make amends, but he knows no matter what, this is really an end for them. At least, it’s an end of what they had. It’s a breakup for a relationship he was never in.

It’s freezing out, and without someone by your side, it just feels colder. For some reason, it doesn’t feel as bad when someone’s hand is in yours, and you’re just focused on how they’re feeling. Trick shivers, hoping that maybe he can shake those thoughts from his head. They are true though, because he feels colder right now, walking a couple blocks in the cold air, than it did having a snowball a snowball fight or going skating or- he has to cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to try to stop the way his brain tries to relay all the time they spent together to him. He doesn’t want to think about it. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

The rush of cold wind when he opens the door to the shop pushes him a little, and it takes a bit of effort to get the door shut behind him. There’s a decent amount of people around, students returning from break and those anticipating the return of classes tomorrow, but Patrick doesn’t really care to look for any familiar faces. He knows he looks like shit. He’s not a light or graceful crier, his face must still be blotchy, and he can feel just how puffy his face and eyes must look. Maybe people will mistake him for having some allergic reaction. He’d take a reaction or even an asthma attack over a broken heart.

He walks over to get in line, luckily only having to wait for one or two people before the barista is greeting him and he’s stepping up. She doesn’t comment on how pathetic he probably looks, but when he orders his coffee, she asks him if he wants an extra shot in it. He doesn’t care to wonder if that was a real question or just a comment on his appearance because he’s answering yes and pulling out his money before she can say anything else. He’s not really a coffee drinker, but he needs something bitter that’ll fill him with adrenaline, and it’s not like he can stomach the thought of drinking tea right now. 

Trick steps down towards the pickup end of the counter, and luckily the baristas aren’t too busy and start getting his coffee right away. He watches them move around, focused on nothing in particular. He brought his phone but he makes no move to pull it out, just stays put and waits his turn. Eventually, they call his name and he steps up to take the cup they offer. The girl smiles and tells him to have a good day, and the forced smile he gives her in return is probably the worst attempt at a smile he’s ever made. He doesn’t care though. He’s not trying to fool her anyway. 

He figures he might as well stay here for a bit. Maybe being away from home will clear his mind a bit. Taking a sip, he turns to survey the room, looking for an open seat, preferably one that he can slump in and look like a hungover guy who hates the world. He kind of does, even though he knows he’s the one who shot himself in the foot. His eyes drift, and that’s when he sees Brendon. That’s when he sees Brendon and  _ Jake _ . His stomach drops out and his heart sinks, making it kind of hard to breathe. They’re sitting at a two top off to the side not far from Patrick, and suddenly no one else in this place exists except for the two of them. He shouldn’t be hurt, he has no reason to be but god does that drive a knife through his heart. He told Brendon to go see Jake, practically kicked him out over it, but seeing Brendon across the table from the other guy, leaning over the table towards the table to be closer, cups in front of them like they’re on a cute little coffee date… It’s not something he thought he could handle. 

He wants to turn and run, he wants to take off and never look back. If there was ever any need for proof that nothing had changed between them, it's right here staring him in the face. Brendon out with another guy, just hours since he woke up in Patrick’s bed. He knows he should leave before Brendon sees him, but his feet won’t move, they keep him glued to the spot, and when the younger guy looks up, Trick knows it’s too late to run. When Brendon sees him, Trick watches him freeze. They make eye contact and neither of them so much as breathes for a moment. 

Brendon narrows his eyes, going a bit stiff as he looks right at Patrick. Trick wonders if the boy is expecting him to throw a fit. To yell and insult him in front of Jake. But Patrick doesn’t have any of that left in him. He can’t ever remember all of those shitty things his tongue wanted to say this morning. Patrick would expect the heat and the anger to flare in him again but they don’t. There’s nothing to fight about anymore. It’s over and he knows it is. Fighting won’t bring Brendon back because he knows nothing will. His heart feels broken and he knows it shows so clearly on him, with his puffy face and sad eyes, slouched in on himself with messy hair and a tight grip around his coffee. Brendon looks prepared to fend off an angry Patrick, but honestly Trick looks nothing short of pathetic right now. Brendon looks good. He always looks good. Patrick loves him so much that it makes his heart swell. Brendon was always so out of his league, and Trick was probably just too blind in love to step back and look at himself. When the boy has hook ups and dates that look like Jake does, why would he need someone like Patrick. Brendon is amazing. He’s perfect. He’s everything to Patrick. Nothing can compare, and he feels silly for thinking that Brendon would ever want to be with him the way Trick wants.

Even if Patrick had the will to fight, he knows he still wouldn’t be able to. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. He’s already lost the battle he’s been silently fighting. It’s over and he needs to let it go. This week was so amazing, so perfect, and no one person has ever made him feel so loved. Not the way Brendon did. It was all an act, but Patrick was falling for the man behind the curtain along the way. He feels so happy with Brendon, feels like he could take on the world with a smile. Brendon makes him feel like nothing matters except for the two of them. He made him feel like he was adored, like he was loved. He can’t get caught up in what was and what might have been, but he’ll still hold the holiday they spent close to his heart.

Patrick doesn’t run. He doesn’t go over. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t do anything that either of them might expect him to. Instead, he just smiles. It’s not tight-lipped and forced, but it’s not happy either. It probably looks broken and sad, but the smile comes naturally. It’s not mean or judgmental, just the smile he gives the guy he loves. He knows it says, “I love you. I still love you.” Brendon seems to be caught off guard, but that doesn’t surprise Trick. He doesn’t have anything more to say or do, so with that he pulls himself away and heads for the door. He doesn’t look back, just keep his gaze in front of him. His whole body wants to turn and glance back, just to see Brendon again as he leaves. Instead he just stays focusing on his coffee, on not burning himself, on not letting the wind take the door, on the bitterness of his drink, on the bite of the air on his cheeks, focusing on anything other than Brendon. Brendon and Jake. It takes incredible willpower not to look back. His heart aches and he wants to rush back for one more kiss even though he’ll never be kissed like that by Brendon again. Even if they somehow go back to the way they were before, he’ll never get one of those kisses again. They weren’t real to Brendon, but they felt it to Trick. They were everything to him. 

He’s not even to the end of the block when he feels a hand on his arm, stopping him. A too-familiar voice says “wait”, and his heart starts to race when he comes face to face with a out of breath and coatless Brendon. He doesn’t have anything to say; he wasn’t expecting to be chased. Looking up at Brendon, he knows he would’ve lost his words to that face anyway, stolen away with his breath. 

“Wait,” Brendon repeats, still trying to catch his breath in the cold winter air.

The look on his face is almost desperate, like he’s begging Patrick not to go. Brendon doesn’t have to beg him for anything though, Trick feels like no matter what Brendon could ask him, his answer would be yes. Patrick waits for him to say something more, getting somewhat distracted by Brendon’s lack of a coat, by his bare hands and head. He must be freezing, and it worries Trick, makes him want to take off his coat just so Brendon can be warm. He’ll walk home without it, he won’t mind. Brendon seems to have finally caught his breath, but Patrick thinks he might just be at a loss for words. The younger guy’s hand is still on Patrick’s arm, forgotten about or maybe purposely left there. Then, Brendon finally takes a breath and breaks the anticipation between them.

“Was any of this week real?” Brendon asks, sounding rushed and almost desperate.

The question is almost ridiculous to Patrick, how could Brendon not already know the answer when it’s written all over Trick and everything he does? He feels so bared and small, and he’s scared of how his voice will sound if he talks. He turns his head away, and tries to find his voice, tries to find a way to speak without looking so pathetic. He just can’t think when he’s looking at Brendon, he needs to clear his head. Brendon pauses a moment, but then Trick is feeling that hand on his arm sliding lower, down to his hand, interlocking their fingers. Patrick doesn’t even hesitate to return the move, holding Brendon’s hand in return and knowing that he couldn’t fight that response even if he tried. 

“Was… Was  _ anything  _ between us real?” Brendon asks in a voice that’s so soft and fragile, like he’s scared of the answer, but he needs it desperately.

It takes Trick a moment to figure out how to breathe again. He just nods at first, the confession on his tongue making him feel tired.

“Yes,” Patrick responds, voice so quiet and unsteady, “all of it was real for me. I meant everything.”

He hears a puff of breathe from Brendon and he doesn’t know if it’s a sigh of relief or a huff of frustration. That part of him that wanted to run from the cafe as soon as he saw Brendon comes back. His heart aches and he wants to get away from anything and everything Brendon could say right now to make it worse. Honestly though, there’s nothing stopping him from taking off. His feet stay planted and his hand stays in Brendon’s, fitting together in a way that makes him never want to leave. He still keeps his gaze away from Brendon, trying to focus on something other than the boy holding his hand.

“Patrick...,” Brendon says softly, and it feels cruel and harsh to Patrick to hear his name said by Brendon with such feeling. 

He feels Brendon give his hand a little squeeze and it knocks all of the air out of his lungs. Brendon still makes him feel like he cares, still makes him feel like maybe there’s something here. His mind reminds him of all the times Brendon’s squeezed his hand, all the times when he was nervous and worried and he was always right there, touching him and making him feel like things were gonna be okay. Brendon still makes his heart hope things are gonna be okay.

“I stayed this morning ‘cause I wanted to. I woke up next to you and I didn’t wanna leave,” Brendon explains, and it’s enough to get Patrick to look over at him, “I had no reason to go.”

Brendon gives him a smile, and Trick wonders if that’s what his smile looked like back in the coffee shop. Tired and sad, but somehow still adoring. 

“I wanted to have breakfast with you. I would make you tea and we’d try to find something we could cook. Maybe we’d burn it and maybe it’d taste bad, but it wouldn’t really matter because you’d kiss me, so it’d all be okay,” Brendon says, and Trick can see the way the morning should have gone so clearly in his head, full of laughs and kisses and love.

Brendon is smiling down at their hands and he looks happy, like they actually did get to have the breakfast he imagined. Trick smiles a little too, so far gone for the image of Brendon in his mind and the one standing in front of him right now. 

“And when you finally woke up I couldn’t wait to kiss you for a year,” he continues with a little laugh which Patrick can completely relate to, making Trick’s wounded heart skip for more reasons than one. 

Brendon goes quiet for a moment, and Patrick has time to wonder if that’s all he’s gonna say. It can’t be though, there has to be more to this. Then, Brendon looks up at him, and the boy’s eyes are more vulnerable than he probably means for them to be.

“And I hoped that maybe when I asked you over tea and breakfast to be- to  _ stay  _ my boyfriend, you’d say yes,” Brendon says with a voice that says he means it.

Patrick feels his heart stop at that, at the idea that Brendon was gonna offer him everything that he wants, at the idea that Brendon wants it too. He made a fool of himself this morning, and he caused a problem when there didn’t have to be one. Still, what Brendon says sounds too good to be true. It can’t be that simple, it just can’t be. There are too many variables, too much shit that got in their way for it to be this easy.

“I was texting him and some other friends this morning while I was waiting for you to wake up, yeah, but all I talked about was you. I had so much to say,” he says, and Trick feels like he could probably write a novel about Brendon, about everything he has to say about him, “but I don’t wanna sleep with him, I don’t wanna be with anyone else but you.”

“From the day you picked me up from that train station, I knew there was no turning back for me,” Brendon confesses, and Trick feels like he’s holding his breath, holding back everything inside of him, “there still isn’t. So I guess what I’m trying to say is… If you want me, then I’m yours.”

Brendon gives this small little smile, something fragile but oh so hopeful. He’s putting himself out there, that vulnerable look in his eyes still clear as day, saying here’s my heart, you can have it. Patrick feels a mess internally, filled with so many different emotions that tangle his head. But above all, without a shadow of a doubt, he knows he loves Brendon. He loves him and he wants to be with him more than anything else in the world right now. He doesn’t know how this happened or how he got so god damn lucky to have this amazing boy asking to be his, but he isn’t going to fuck it up this time. He’s gonna go for what his heart wants, and what his heart wants is to see Brendon smile, to make him laugh, to make him feel loved, to make him feel even just a fraction of how Patrick feels when he’s around him. 

He realizes he’s been pretty quiet since Brendon started his speech, and he doesn’t bother wasting time looking for words to say. He was never good with words anyway. He steps close and kisses Brendon, throws his cup of coffee off to the side, and pulls him closer. He kisses Brendon with all he has, pouring his heart into the kiss and feeling his body light up when he’s being kissed back. To Brendon, his mouth probably tastes bitter from the coffee, but to Patrick, their kiss is sweet and sugary, and passionate enough to nearly bring him to his knees. He kisses all his feelings into Brendon, and he hopes the younger boy can hear him. Judging by the way he kisses back, Trick guesses he can. They break for air for a minute, but they stay pressed up close to each other. He doesn’t remember them moving, but now he can feel Brendon’s arms around him, so grounding and comforting, making his heart flutter in a happy excited way. All it took was a kiss to put it back together.

“I love you,” he mumbles, somewhat nervous to say it even after everything Brendon said to him. 

Brendon sounded so in love but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for love. Doesn’t matter. Patrick still needs to say it anyway. It’s only fair that he shows his hand after Brendon’s laid his out on the table. Brendon just laughs, loud and happy, a sound that tells Patrick that everything is gonna be okay, it really is. 

“I love you I love you,” Brendon responds, a grin splitting his face so wide.

Patrick smiles back up at him and Brendon kisses him again, making his head spin and his vision go a bit dizzy when he opens his eyes back up. He runs his fingers through Brendon’s hair, and lets those words fully sink in. Brendon loves him. The real Brendon. He laughs at that thought, because really there never was any “fake Brendon”, it was always just him. They both put on a face and pretend to be in love, but behind that mask they both really were falling for each other. Nothing in his life has ever fallen into place as perfectly as they have.

“I wanna be your boyfriend,” Patrick says, feeling like that’s already clear, but knowing that they both need to hear it. 

Brendon gives another little laugh, and the brightness in his eyes is blinding. Trick wonders if he’ll ever stop getting to breathless at every little thing Brendon does. It doesn’t feel possible, especially when Brendon looks at him like  _ that,  _ squeezes him in a hug, and makes him feel so put back together.

“God…,” Brendon breathes out, shaking his head for a moment, “how did I get so lucky?”

Trick’s heart flutters at that in double time. He fucked this morning up, and almost completely fucked  _ them  _ up. He should be the one who’s asking some deity how he got here. Honestly, he feels like the luckiest guy on Earth right now.

Eventually they pull apart, but just barely. They don’t really care about the spilt coffee and the little scene they just caused in front of their quad. They don’t care about much other than each other. The wind whips around the corner, and Trick feels it down his neck, reminding him of how Brendon is out here in just a long sleeve top and jeans. He looks pale, and his nose and cheeks are red, body slightly shaking from the cold. 

“Oh god you must be freezing,” Patrick comments, and Brendon seems to just suddenly remember about that little fact.

Trick sees a chill run through the other boy, but he’s already got one arm out of his coat. 

“Yeah uh, a little bit,” Brendon says, as he wraps two arms around himself and bounces in place.

He doesn’t seem to notice that Trick’s got his coat off until the older boy is wrapping it around him. He’s surprised but then he gives this grateful smile that makes Patrick just  _ have to  _ kiss his nose. It makes Brendon’s cheeks color a little darker, and Patrick finds himself not really minding the cold, even as it blows against his bare arms. They both reach to take each other’s hands at the same time, and honestly by now it feels more unnatural to not have Brendon’s hand in his. It’s something he never wants to let go of. They start heading back to the coffee shop in order to grab Brendon’s coat. 

Time to kick Sinclair out, because Patrick has big plans for them. Plans that involve tea and breakfast food and lots of kisses. Plans that involve Brendon. His heart has never felt happier.


	23. Epilogue

Patrick feels exhausted and sore but in the best possible way. Is there a better reason to be worn out other than from marathon sex with your boyfriend? Probably not. They had come back for breakfast and taken their time acting goofy and being in love and having fun, but then after Trick had downed his tea and they had cleared out the jelly in the fridge, they ended up back in Patrick’s bedroom. And now a few hours of making out and rough sex and gentle sex and bible verses and everything in between, they’re both pretty much down for the count. 

His body feels sore in a way that he’s not used to, in a way that isn't comfortable but it's not necessarily bad. He can't remember how long it's been since he bottomed for someone. But Brendon isn't just  _ someone.  _ The younger boy is pressed to his side, both of them still trying to catch their breath and slow their heartbeats. Trick feels like he always does around Brendon, only amplified with the knowledge that the boy is his now, and with the intimacy between them right now. He doesn't bottom, he doesn't really get off on it, but with Brendon it wasn't about getting off. Brendon’s smiling at him when he looks over, and they share a smile. The younger boy is far from a top, but he took charge well, took care of his boyfriend. Patrick surprised them both when he asked for this after he ended up in a more submissive position while making out. It was different, and very emotionally charged, and it just makes him want to be held close by Brendon. Kissed by him and never let go. 

Since when did he become such a sap? A month ago he had no interest in even having a boyfriend, and now he’s so in love he can barely breathe around this guy. It’s hard to believe that he’s here, but just as hard to believe that he never noticed all those perfect and less-than-perfect parts of the younger guy that makes him so special, gives him so much life and light. Honestly though, when did he become the kind of guy to wax poetic about someone. 

Brendon pulls him close and wraps an arm around him, and Patrick has never felt anything so grounding. His head rests on the boy’s chest and he can hear the thump of his heart. And this is all because of some stupid made-up story he blurted out to his parents last week, and a friend willing to help him out. One thing that rings in his mind from Brendon’s confession speech earlier is when he mentioned that first day, being picked up at the train station and knowing there was no turning back for him. Trick remembers that night, remembers laying in bed and smelling sex in the air, thinking that it smelled like Brendon. There’s sweat and sex in his sheets now, and it feels just as it did back then. He can’t help but wondering if that night was when Brendon realized there was “no turning back”, or if maybe it was earlier in the day. It’s strange to think that Brendon caught feelings in just a day, but it feels illogical to think that Brendon felt anything between them before this week. Right?

Out of seemingly nowhere, Brendon laughs, body shaking slightly against Patrick’s. Trick looks up at him with an eyebrow raised, but he just gets a grin in response from his friend.

“Something funny?” he asks, a smile creeping around the corner of his own face.

“Just thinking about if you have to introduce the real me to your parents,” Brendon responds, shaking his head with another laugh, “‘oh hey mom and dad, my good super religious boyfriend suddenly left the church, got tatted the fuck up, is a god damned slut, and is all around just a complete fucking sinner now!’”

Patrick laughs too, loud and happy. He can picture his mom’s face if he brought the “real” Brendon home, and instead of being scary, it’s really damn amusing. He knows Kev and Meg would laugh as their mom’s head short-circuited, and that just makes it even better. He almost wants to see the scene happen. Trick tips his head up to look up at his boyfriend. 

“Yeah I think that’ll go over so well,” he responds, and they both laugh again. 

“Or maybe next time I’ll make sure to grab some concealer and a bible again,” Brendon says with a chuckle, before tilting his head and giving a little smirk, “how long do you think we could keep this up?”

Patrick just shakes his head at that. He doesn’t know if Brendon’s kidding or serious about that idea, but Trick isn’t too crazy about it. He isn’t gonna disguise his boyfriend next time.

“Next time, I wanna introduce them to the real you,” he says, voice in a bit more serious of a tone, “I won’t make you pretend to be that kind of guy just for my sake. Even if we do get exposed as fakes when they realize the shit we pulled this time.”

Brendon gives him a look, something thoughtful and serious, but then he gives another smile and leans in for a small kiss. It lingers, and Trick wonders if this is the new norm for them, kisses that never want to end. The younger boy gives a “hm” when he pulls away.

“Fakes? I dunno I think I was pretty convincing as the adoring boyfriend,” Brendon responds, something soft in his smile that makes Trick’s heart skip.

“You were,” Patrick agrees before giving a little huff of laughter, “sure fooled me.”

Brendon laughs a bit too, nodding in agreement like he knows he’s good, knows he was good enough to get Patrick to fall for him, good enough to get the guy he loved to love him back.

“You know I uh… I was kinda into you before you invited me over,” Brendon admits, looking a bit bashful, “like beyond just physically and sexually.”

“Were you?” Patrick asks, interested in what the guy has to say and if it’ll answer his wondering questions.

Brendon nods and Trick can see the heat under his cheeks, the light blush that shows on his face. It’s strange to think that after their whole scene they caused earlier today Brendon is still getting embarrassed to confess something. Making out in the middle of campus and confessing their love may be just about the cheesiest thing that Patrick’s ever seen, let alone been a part of.

“I guess just… You interested me. You were cool and punk and also really nice and kinda awkward at times but always passionate about what you loved,” Brendon explains before giving a little shrug, “I dunno, there was a lot to like about you, and there always seemed like there was more to you that I wanted to get to know.”

Patrick watches the younger boy silently, taking in the sight of the amazing boy in bed with him, the one talking about him like he’s something special, something important. Before this week, Brendon was honestly just a hookup and a friend, and that’s all he thought he was to the younger boy in return. The way Brendon smiles when he focuses on him, it confirms what his words say, that his thought back then wasn’t quite true.

“You still interest me, and you’re still all of those things to me,” Brendon says, and Trick feels his heart skip for the millionth time today. 

The idea that he could’ve been liked by someone like Brendon based on a relationship of sex is strange but it makes everything seem a bit clearer in hindsight. From the beginning of the trip Brendon had acted so real, and maybe just maybe that’s because he wasn’t acting the way Patrick thought he was. He remembers Brendon’s kisses, remembers cuddling on the couch, remembers Brendon almost falling asleep in his bed. God how blind was he to not see what his friend was feeling under the surface.

“And now, maybe I need to stop saying so much gay shit because I think I’ve hit my threshold for the day,” Brendon says with a laugh, before adding a mumbled, “or like, for the month.”

“I don’t mind,” Patrick responds, and that answer kind of surprises them both, “at least, not when it makes me so happy to hear.”

Patrick smiles first, and Brendon’s smile follows less than a moment later. Trick’s not a fan of flowery romantic speeches. Except for when it comes to Brendon apparently. He’s always shied away from PDA. Except when it comes to Brendon. He has trouble accepting or believing compliments and sweet words about himself. Except when it comes to Brendon. He’s not a romantic, and he’s not really a fan of relationships in general, but when he’s with Brendon, he’s not even thinking about all of that shit. All that matters is them and how they feel. It’s strange to feel so happy around someone, but he does.

“I think you’ll regret that as soon as I sell my speeches to Pete for him to make lyrics out of,” Brendon comments with a grin, and Patrick groans.

“I regret it already,” he responds with a roll of his eyes, but then they’re both laughing, easy and light-hearted.

It’s getting close to dinner time, but Patrick really does not want to get out of bed. He doesn’t want to prep for classes, or find some more food, or even greet his best friend who just got home from vacation about an or two hour ago and who has probably just been chilling and listening to them fucking. Patrick doesn’t wanna do anything except stay put, exactly where he is. 

He falls asleep with fingers in his hair and a heartbeat against his ear. He falls asleep feeling like he’s finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read through to the end! This is the longest fic I've ever written and I'm very happy with it. I hope you all enjoyed it! :)


End file.
